


Wild Card

by lesbrarians



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: BDSM, Canon Compliant, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27821950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbrarians/pseuds/lesbrarians
Summary: Luxord and Xaldin enjoy an unplanned "vacation day" together.
Relationships: Luxord/Xaldin (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic circa 2010, uploaded by request!

Ordinarily, Xaldin was a morning person. Unlike some of his subordinates, he never complained about being required to get up and report to duty in the mornings. In fact, he rather enjoyed being up and alert when half of his comrades were still rubbing sleep from their eyes. Perhaps it was a remnant from the days when his Somebody was an apprentice of Ansem, an arduous undertaking that often required him to be up at 6 A.M. sharp. Lately, however, after several days of working late into the night and staking out new worlds, the man was exhausted, overworked, and ready for a damn vacation. 

Thus, when his alarm clock went off at 7:00, Xaldin all but assaulted the electronic device, a moody gust of wind knocking it off the nightstand onto the cold white floor, where it shattered. He looked down at the broken pieces of his former clock. Maybe he’d regret it later, but right now, all that he cared about was that the infernal thing wasn’t making his head hurt anymore. He threw the covers off himself and grudgingly slumped out of bed, dragging his bulky frame to the bathroom to take care of business and get dressed. 

At least, he thought while tugging on his black gloves, he was fortunate enough to get away with simply rolling out of bed and reporting to the Superior; with his dreadlocks and massive sideburns, he didn’t require as much preparation in the mornings as, say, Axel. How the man managed to use a small fortune’s worth of hair gel each day, he would never understand. After tugging on a pair of black leather pants and shrugging into his Organization coat, he set off to the Grey Area, dully thinking that it would be nice to have a day off, but not getting his hopes up. The Superior wasn’t fond of vacations when there was work to be done in completing Kingdom Hearts. 

Needless to say, he was delighted (if one could call it that, seeing as how he lacked a heart to feel such emotion) to find a sign posted in the lounge upon entering: “Operations Closed for Vacation.” About time.

The other members of the Organization were either present or just milling in as he arrived to hear the good news. Still feeling somewhat sullen and grumpy from lack of sleep, he opted to retreat to a couch in the corner and observe the others, who were too busy formulating plans and discussing amongst themselves to pay much attention to him.

“Am I late?” Demyx, easily the laziest of the thirteen, was the last to trickle in, still yawning. Looking around, he spotted the notice, and his face lit up visibly. “Awww, yeah!” The blond cheered, raising his fists in victory. “Man, I’ve been saying that we’ve needed a day off for forever. Finally, a vacation!”

Xaldin watched as Xigbar, easily the closest member of the original six apprentices to him, approached Demyx from behind. “Well, it’s not like you’d be doing any work anyways,” he taunted lightly, sniggering at his own wisecrack.

“Xiggy!” protested Demyx, whirling around to face him. “Come on, I work just as hard as everyone else does… well, no, maybe I don’t,” he conceded, “but I try, man! Give me at least some credit.”

“Relax, kiddo.” Xigbar laid a hand on his shoulder, grinning at him. “I’m kidding. So what are you going to do on this fine day off?”

Demyx made an indistinct, harrumphing noise of discontentment at Xigbar’s teasing, but he had already moved on to the next thing on his mind. “I want to go to the ocean,” he decided. “The surf, the sun, nothing to do but kick back and relax… sounds like a perfect day to me.” 

Xaldin rolled his eyes. Hardly a surprise there, considering that the musician’s element was water, and he seemed more at home in it than out of it. What he was surprised about, however, was that Larxene, who was known as the Savage Nymph and was easily one of the cruelest members in the organization, seemed to be taking an interest in the discussion.

“I think that sounds like a  _ lovely _ idea,” Larxene crooned, entering the conversation where she was not wanted.

“But you hate the water,” Demyx pointed out, ever the obvious one. 

“I know.” She grinned enigmatically, electricity crackling around her. Demyx stepped backwards, looking slightly nervous. Larxene always scared him a bit, as she constantly made him the subject of her malicious jokes, and he wasn’t about to get electrocuted again. As he backed away, he bumped into Marluxia, who pushed him aside, talking over him as if he weren’t even present.

“Oh, I like your thinking, Larxene…” he commented airily. 

The two of them were partners in crime, and Xaldin couldn’t help but be suspicious when they bent their heads together, as they were doing so now. You never knew what they were plotting privately. The schemers glanced simultaneously at Vexen, the icy scientist who was sitting alone, scribbling one of his half-baked formulas on a sheaf of paper. Xaldin groaned internally. Marluxia and Larxene were always up to no good, and they delighted in tormenting their elder, which invariably resulted in him getting worked up and raging at them in his shrill, peculiar voice. The Lancer had half a mind to leave the room and retreat to sleep, but a morbid curiosity compelled him to stay and see just how this would pan out.

Unaware of the two Nobodies steadily advancing on him, Vexen frowned down at a page of his notes, squinting as he crossed out what he had just written. Unfortunately for him, he was too absorbed to notice his least favorite coworkers until they accosted him. Marluxia clamped his right shoulder while Larxene took his left. He let out a slight squeal of surprise and indignantly demanded, “What are you thinking?” 

“Oh, we were just considering a nice little trip to the beach…”

“…And think that it would be simply  _ wonderful  _ if you joined us,” Larxene finished, a nasty smirk on her face.

“I am a scientist. I do not have time for such frivolous endeavors,” the chilly scholar huffed, speaking to them as if they were below him, which, as Numbers XI and XII, they were. 

Hardly surprising in Xaldin’s eyes – the man had probably never even heard of the concept of vacation before. But that didn’t deter the two mischief makers from harassing the scholar. Nothing out of the ordinary there. 

Meanwhile, Demyx had stumbled back over to Xigbar, grumbling at being pushed around by the others and mumbling a few choice words about the bullies. “They had better not come along with us… I don’t want any bossy coworkers ruining my vacation.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Xigbar answered, as laid-back as ever. “It looks like they have their own agenda anyway. Which means that it’ll be just you and me, yeah?”

Demyx grew considerably cheerier at that and grinned. “Great! Just let me go grab my suit…” He was already bounding down the hallway to Room IX.

“Suit? What suit?” Xigbar called after him, incredulous, but left the room to follow him. 

Xaldin, who had remarkably sharp hearing, couldn’t help but overhear Saix’s voice, presumably as Xigbar passed Xemnas’s right-hand man in the corridor: “And just where are you going?”

One could practically hear Xigbar’s smirk in his drawling voice as he answered, “We’re going to the frigging beach, motherfucker!” and disappeared into a dark portal to chase after Demyx.

Xaldin’s lips twitched at the response. So that was at least two members gone for the day, and it looked like another three would be following: Vexen was storming out of the room, with the persistent Marluxia and Larxene behind him, presumably to goad him some more. This was a good sign. Xaldin’s own plans for the day were to stay in and recuperate, so long as everyone else figured out what they were doing and got the hell out of his way. 

With his primary distractions gone, he couldn’t help but notice Lexaeus and Zexion, the Silent Hero and the Cloaked Schemer, in a removed corner. They were two reserved loners who often kept to themselves, and Xaldin still never knew quite what to make of them, despite the fact that their Somebodies, like his own, were amongst Ansem’s Apprentices. He had never gotten to know them quite as well as he did the others.

Lexaeus bent down to Zexion’s level and asked, in his usual low, calm voice, “What do you have planned for today, Zexion?”

Zexion absentmindedly rubbed his chin with his hand as he mused, “Well, I was thinking of perhaps spending some time in the library today.” He looked up, meeting Lexaeus’s gaze. “Would you care to join me?”

“Yes,” That was the thing about Lexaeus; he never used two words when he could make do with one, “I would.”

Zexion reached up to gently take hold of the larger man’s sleeve and lead him out of the room, the two of them ducking down the corridor that led to the spacious library of The Castle That Never Was.

Alone at last, Xaldin heaved a heavy sigh of relief and spoke aloud to himself. “Well, this place is refreshingly quiet with Demyx and the others gone.”

“What are the odds of that?” came a voice from behind him.

Xaldin nearly jumped out of his skin, a reaction akin to a heart attack. The irony of the sensation was not lost on him. He quickly jerked around to see who was behind him, only to find himself staring into a pair of eyes as blue as the Caribbean sea of their owner’s home world.

“Luxord!” Xaldin growled, thoroughly unamused at the Gambler’s antics. “And just how long were you there for?”

“Oh, about a half hour or so,” he contemplated, emerging from behind the couch to sit next to Xaldin, crossing his legs as he did so. Xaldin stared at him stonily. In truth, he found it impossible to stay mad at Luxord, as charming as he was. The Brit, with his lightly bronzed skin, short, platinum blond Caesar haircut, and thin mustache and beard, was something of a wild card. Piercings lined both ears, belying an unbridled side underneath the exterior presentation of an enchanting gentleman and gambler. He had chance and fortune on his side, which probably explained why Xaldin was letting him go unscathed after having the living daylights scared out of him.

“What do you want?” he said tiredly.

“Just wondering what your plans were for today, love.” Casual as ever.

“I’m staying in,” he answered shortly. “No escapades to the beach for me, thanks. I need a real break.”

“Hmm.” The other man seemed to be pondering something, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Xaldin eyed him warily. 

Luxord looked up at him with a mischievous look in his eyes and a devilish grin. “Well. I suppose I shall let you return to your room then, as I presume you’ll want to relax.” With that farewell, Luxord summoned up a dark corridor and stepped into it, vanishing into the darkness.

“…Right.” After staring at the spot where the enigmatic Nobody been just seconds before, Xaldin pulled himself off of the couch and did just that.

One of the perks about being third in rank was that his chambers were rightfully closer to the center of life in The Castle That Never Was. The grand castle was spacious with untold amounts of rooms and areas, and the heart of it all was the room where nothing gathers, ubiquitously known by the Organization as The Round Room. 

The closer to this hub, the more prominent the room: the lounge, The Kitchen That Never Was, Xemnas’s own quarters. As one traveled further and further into the castle, the layout became increasingly chaotic and the rooms lessened in importance. It was no wonder that most of the denizens of the castle preferred to travel by the Corridors of Darkness. 

Xaldin, on the other hand, actually rather enjoyed walking. Of course, he probably wouldn’t be if he was, say, Number X and had to take a rather convoluted and lengthy path to reach his bedroom.

Needless to say, it came as something of a surprise to open the door to his own room and find the aforementioned Number X perched on his bed.

“Luxord.” He was being remarkably calm, all things considered. “What in the name of Kingdom Hearts are you doing in here?” 

“I thought that perhaps you’d enjoy some amiable companionship and quality time as long as we’re on holiday,” the Gambler answered smoothly.

“So rather than discuss this with me while we were conversing in the lounge, you lure me into my bedroom for some ‘quality time?’”

“You read too much into things. I merely assumed that you’d rather be at home in your own element while enjoying your break and decided to join you.”

Xaldin decided to give up in decoding the other Nobody and sat down across from him, folding his arms as he began, “Right. Now what?”

“Let’s play a game, shall we?” Luxord suggested, a smirk creeping across his face. “Luxord, for the last time, I am not playing strip poker with you. I thought we had decided that after the fifth time of me being rendered completely naked while you remained fully clothed.”

Luxord’s chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Oh, but why not?” He reached out to toy with one of Xaldin’s dreadlocks. Catching the murderous look in the other man’s eyes, he surmised that he was not amused and dropped his hand. “—but never mind that. No, I was referring to another little challenge. A timed game. The first to immobilize the other shall be the winner.”

“Why do I suspect that you’re up to something?” 

He arched one platinum-blond eyebrow. “Are you implying that my intentions are anything but pure? T’is is just a little something to pass the time while everyone else in the castle is occupied elsewhere.”

“I  _ know _ your intentions aren’t pure.”

“Rubbish. I am a proper gentleman, I’ll have you know. Consider it a test of skills, if you will.”

“Fine,” Xaldin acquiesced, rising from his seat to tower over the other man threateningly. “Then I accept your challenge.” 

“Excellent.” Raising one hand, Luxord summoned a set of shining numbers in thin air, an ethereal counter. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll even get lucky tonight.”

“That better not be a euphemism.”

“Nonsense, it’s merely a figure of speech. Now let the game… begin.” He snapped his fingers, an impressive feat considering that he was still wearing his leather gloves, smirking devilishly as the shimmering numbers began their countdown.

“As you wish.” A gust of wind rippled across the floor, whipping both men’s black coats around their ankles as the gale lifted Xaldin gracefully into the air. In a flash of white light, he summoned his six lances, gripping two in his hands while the remaining four floated around him. He raised one of his lances and pointed it at Luxord in a show of challenge, grinning smugly before swiftly bring his arm down. It sliced through the air, sending a flurry of his hovering lances flying directly at Luxord.

Quick as a flash, Luxord brought his hands up in a defensive position, summoning up Fair Game as a defensive barrier and effectively protecting himself from the piercing lances. Moving deliberately, he banished the barrier and sent a flurry of playing cards spiraling towards Xaldin with the intent to blindside him, an effort that Xaldin matched. The Gambler’s movements were quick and elegant, and the fast-paced battle seemed more like a dance than combat, with each participant parrying the other’s blow easily. 

Xaldin ground his teeth, frustrated by the Gambler of Fate’s unpredictability and constant motion, fervently wishing the man would stay in one place so he could finish him off for good. Thinking rapidly, he began to teleport short distances to avoid Luxord’s continuous attacks from reaching him. The cardsharp was playing a game, which meant there had to be some sort of pattern to his actions, if only he could learn the rules and use them to his own advantage. 

All it took was one false step on the blond’s behalf. Luxord fanned out a deck of cards that crackled with dark energy and began to spin around the room, whirling in time with Xaldin’s own hurricane. The second Luxord faltered in selecting a card to manipulate, Xaldin seized the opportunity and struck with deadly force, the blow of his lances coupled with a powerful blast of wind slamming his opponent against the wall. 

Luxord grunted at the harsh blow and struggled to extract himself from Xaldin’s grip only to find that he couldn’t. The six lances had effectively nailed him to the wall, piercing the fabric of his uniform and loose sleeves, preventing him from moving.

Satisfied, Xaldin held him at arm’s length and met the blond’s fiery gaze, convinced he had won. 

The next thing he knew, his lances were clattering to the floor and his victim was ducking under his arm to escape. Dumbfounded, he turned around vulnerably, not quick enough to avoid Luxord’s razor-sharp reflexes. An onslaught of cards whistled through the air around his feet, tripping him up, and Luxord struck at him, aiming for the legs to take him down.

Xaldin hit the ground with a thud with Luxord, who had gained the upper hand, on top of him. The Gambler, having restricted mobility on Xaldin’s legs, positioned himself so that his weight was concentrated on the Lancer’s chest and held down his arms, rendering the considerably larger man immobile. 

Disoriented and enraged, Xaldin spat, “What did you do?” There was no way he could have escaped unassisted; his lances made sure of that, as they were firmly embedded in the wall. 

“You’d be surprised what a manipulator of time can do,” Luxord said with a self-satisfied smile that made Xaldin’s blood boil. “Freeze time. Even rewind it, to a certain extent. Or alter it so that the slightest movement can make the difference in the outcome of the game. Which reminds me… time’s up.” And indeed, the silver numbers hovering above them struck zero.

The Lancer shot daggers at him with a single, disgusted look. “You’re a filthy cheater.”

“Correction: I am an opportunist.” He seemed remarkably cheerful for someone who was sitting on top of a murderous and not-too-happy Number III. “Which is why I always win. Now…” he purred, bringing his face closer to Xaldin’s. “I think what this game needs is a few thrills, wouldn’t you say?”

Still aggravated at the other’s methods of winning and domineering attitude, Xaldin said stiffly, “If you have a point to make, Number X, then make it.” He was tired of beating around the bush and demanded to know just what the cryptic man’s intentions were.

But naturally, he could never make things simple for him and, propping his chin in his hand, continued leisurely, “Just look at this castle and its veritable medley of relationships – I’m noticing a pattern of suits. Each pair contains a dominant card that trumps the other.  _ Exempli gratia _ , the only way Demyx would ever top would be if Xigbar was humoring the kid. Furthermore, Saix is Xemnas’s dog, and the Superior can easily have his way with him. Then you have Lexaeus and Zexion. Need I elaborate further?”

“And your point is…?” Xaldin replied drolly, arching one eyebrow. The Brit simply had to take the roundabout way when explaining something, constantly relating life to one big gamble.

"It's all in the draw of the cards," Luxord concluded, smirking as he leaned over Xaldin, still keeping him pinned to the floor. “Which means that you… are mine. I have my hand, and I’m ready to play it.”

Comprehension finally dawning on him, Xaldin snorted. “You talk too much, Gambler.” Summoning up his brute strength, he managed to roll over, flipping Luxord and pinning him to the floor. It helped that he had at least four inches on him and a considerably larger frame as well – but Luxord was no lightweight himself. “And in case you didn’t realize, I am nobody’s bitch.”

Somewhat amused at the sudden turn of events, but not seeming to mind too much, Luxord laced his hands behind his head and opened his mouth to make another witty remark, but Xaldin silenced him by crushing their lips together. He could feel the other man’s grin widening as he returned the kiss; Luxord always got what he wanted. He knew how to play the right cards. That was his policy on life: to win, and he held no scruples about playing dirty to achieve his means. 

Maybe it was this viewpoint that made the kiss shared so intense; both men were determined to dominate, to prove his superiority over the other, to  _ win _ . Xaldin’s mouth moved hungrily over Luxord’s, which responded harshly. The two fought with each other, lips seeking out lips, until Luxord unexpectedly bit Xaldin’s bottom lip – hard – and the Lancer let out an involuntary, instinctive gasp of surprise. 

He could feel Luxord’s muffled chuckle vibrating in his throat, and he growled in disapproval. As punishment for the nip, he gripped the blond’s jaw to still him, aggressively tipping his chin up and attacking him again, more forcefully this time. 

The heat of the moment was broken when Xaldin pulled away, a thin strand of saliva connecting their mouths before breaking, severing their contact. He was breathing heavily, lips parted and eyes glued on Luxord, who met his gaze with an equal intensity. Luxord’s chest rose and fell beneath him with each deep breath he took, and he realized that the blond was just as affected by the passionate embrace as he was. It turned him on to know that he could have such an effect on the Gambler, as reluctant as he was to admit it.

As if reading the other’s thoughts, Luxord spoke up, his voice dripping with confidence. “Don’t think you’ve won just yet. The game’s only just beginning, and it’s time to up the ante.” He sat up slightly to give himself a freer range of movement. Having repositioned himself, he daringly reached out to tug on the zipper of Xaldin’s coat, revealing a muscular torso. “Are you willing to risk it all?”

Xaldin didn’t answer right away, self-consciously trying to keep himself in check as Luxord’s roving hands explored his body, but he finally cleared his throat and asked, “Do I have a choice in the matter?” It was partly a rhetorical question, since he suspected he knew the answer already. At this point, it didn’t even matter whether he said yes or not, because Luxord was undoubtedly going to continue this bizarre, twisted game of his regardless of consent.

“Not really.” Those wandering hands slid down the Lancer’s chest, stopping when they reached the waist of his pants, where they lingered suggestively.

Xaldin, who had been sitting stock-still and wordlessly following the movement with his eyes, looked up at the Gambler and acknowledged him. The expression on the blond’s face could only be described as wicked – one eyebrow was cocked roguishly, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes, and a sardonic grin tugged on the corners of his lips. He had managed to slip out from underneath Xaldin while he was disarming him and now knelt before him, taking charge. Luxord moved forward and subtly steered Xaldin towards his bed. He leaned up against the larger man, one hand working at his fly.

While Luxord undid his pants, Xaldin couldn’t help but snort at the whole farce. “Pure intentions, my ass.”

“And a very fine arse it is too,” Luxord remarked slyly, slipping his hands around Xaldin’s waist to cop a feel. He pushed Xaldin flat onto his back on the bed and climbed on top, straddling him and swiftly ridding him of his Organization coat. For a moment, he sat there and admired Xaldin’s ripped form, trailing one tanned hand over his toned abs. Humming in pleasure, he stretched himself against the Lancer, breathing in his musky, nutmeg scent. It was a warm, slightly spicy aroma that he found tantalizing, and he ran his tongue over Xaldin’s skin, wondering aimlessly if he would taste the same.

Xaldin shuddered at the sudden sensation, then immediately rebuked himself for reacting so submissively. It seemed to please the Gambler though, as he took it one step further and began to suck on Xaldin’s nipple. As he did so, he rubbed up against the Lancer, and Xaldin closed his eyes, cursing him furiously. The sensual movement was not doing much to help the persistent problem in his pants, and he knew that Luxord was doing it on purpose, the bastard.

“Like that?” The Brit murmured, confirming Xaldin’s suspicions as he continued to grind provocatively against his erection.

“Shut up,” Xaldin said through gritted teeth. 

Luxord chuckled, brushing his lips against the other’s chest before rising to administer to Xaldin’s needs. He tugged off both boots and carelessly chucked them over his shoulder, causing the Nobody to wince imperceptibly as they thumped on the floor. Completely oblivious to the other’s reaction, Luxord surveyed Xaldin’s body with a roguish grin and placed both hands on his captive’s hips, effortlessly sliding his pants off and discarding them on the floor. His boxers soon followed, joining the disheveled heap of garments at the foot of the bed. 

Lust commanding him, Luxord pressed himself against Xaldin, his mouth exploring the man’s collarbone while his hands roamed free. He trailed his fingers up the Lancer’s legs, caressing the insides of his thighs, running one thumb over his hipbone and tracing a pattern along his groin. 

Finally unable to resist the teasing any longer, Xaldin growled in frustration, arching his hips up into Luxord’s hand. “Luxord…”

“What?” the Brit asked in his most innocent voice, resting his hand on Xaldin’s thigh, his thumb stroking small circles in a most un-innocent fashion.

Xaldin simply glowered at him wordlessly. Catching on, Luxord withdrew his hand and lifted himself up. Xaldin opened his mouth to say something, then realized that, at some point, Luxord’s coat had become unzipped and was now hanging loosely around his shoulders. With a strange curiosity to see more, Xaldin impulsively slid his hands up his torso to draw the coat off, exposing his bare chest. Luxord didn’t seem to have any objection to the contact and sat back, watching the Lancer with a lazy grin to see what he would do next.

Xaldin sized him up, eyes sweeping over him. He had to admit, he was mildly surprised. Granted, Luxord wasn’t half as brawny as he himself or Lexaeus was, but he was still a powerhouse. Striking muscles rippled under a wiry frame, flexing with each movement he made. Xaldin reached out to touch his stomach, fingers trailing over ripped abs and brushing against the soft hair that led down towards uncharted waters. Luxord shivered at the touch; Xaldin’s fingers were cool, and the quiver broke the spell. The Lancer looked up at him through narrowed eyes and commanded, “I’d suggest that you get on with it and stop being a tease if you still want possession of all your limbs.”

Luxord opened his mouth to speak but quickly snapped it shut when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of a particularly sharp lance hovering pointedly beside the bed. He greatly enjoyed his game of torment, but he wasn’t so blinded that he couldn’t see when his witticisms were best left unsaid. “Fair point,” he conceded and leaned down to kiss Xaldin roughly, one hand snaking down to stroke him. Luxord ran one thumb over the tip of his head, fingers caressing his shaft.

The Lancer let out a groan at the contact, his hips rocking back and forth of their own volition. Encouraged, Luxord slid his hand down Xaldin’s length, squeezing his fingers once before matching the other’s pace with a quick, jerking tempo. While he kept in time with the rhythmic motion of Xaldin’s hips, he nuzzled the other man’s chest, his head slowly migrating south.

Xaldin had to chuckle slightly when Luxord’s facial fuzz brushed against him on its way down, tickling the sensitive receptors in his skin. Of course, he knew it was coming, but he still inhaled sharply when Luxord’s mouth enveloped him, flooding him with ecstasy. Just the sensation of the wet mouth taking him in was pleasure enough, but it was the way that Luxord proceeded to go down on him that really drove him crazy. Turned-on and rock-hard, he growled in frustration when the blond decided to slow down.

The Gambler ran his tongue leisurely up Xaldin’s shaft, taking time to massage his balls gently before returning to the head of his cock. He swirled his tongue around its tip before sucking it, wrapping his arms around Xaldin’s legs to pull his hips closer to him.

Breathing deeply, the dreadlocked Nobody let his eyes close and rolled his hips forward, thrusting feverously to heighten the intense sensation of being sucked off. Then Luxord shifted, and Xaldin could feel the other man’s prominent arousal brush against his leg, and that combined with the way his tongue teasingly traced slow, steady circles around the head of his cock was nearly enough to send him over the top, and he thrust his hips forward, and fuck  _ yes _ —

—Then, just before he was about to peak, Xaldin was deprived of his climax when Luxord decided to lift his head and sit back, licking his lips with a Cheshire-Cat-like grin on his face. The still-panting, livid Lancer glared at him, eyes boring holes into the blond’s head.

“Luxord, if you don’t finish me right now, you can forget about ever touching me for the rest of your artificial life,” Xaldin snarled.

“Oh, we both know that that’s not true, love.” Luxord smirked, one hand trailing up Xaldin’s leg, tracing a pattern on his inner thigh. “Because you just can’t resist me.” With that, he wrapped his fingers around him and gripped him in a decisive act of dominance. “And besides, I’m not going to let you finish without me.” He nonchalantly, yet firmly, squeezed Xaldin’s balls as a warning, letting him know that he was the one who was in control and could do so much more damage to his crown jewels if so inclined. “That’s an order, mate, not a request.”

Xaldin simply glowered at him. He was already on the brink of no return, and now he had to postpone his pleasure further? Preposterous, and maddening to boot. Mustering up his self-control, he took several deep breaths and tried to ignore his throbbing arousal. Instead, he leered at Luxord, redirecting his attentions. “My, my… rather demanding, aren’t you? I think we’re going to have to remedy this.” He appraised Luxord: his coat was cast to the side, his pants unzipped, platinum blond hair peeking out, and his short, scruffy hair already wild with sex. “First object of business: pants off.” Xaldin’s broad hands were already at his waist, moving quickly and efficiently as he slid the Gambler’s pants down his frame and tugged them off, where they joined the abandoned coats.

Luxord leaned back on his hands and smirked at the expression on Xaldin’s face when he looked down at him.

“Fuck, Luxord.” Apparently the risk-taker’s piercings weren’t limited to the double helixes and dangling earring on his ears: he also wielded a Prince Albert and an impressive Jacob’s Ladder consisting of six barbells that pierced the entire underside of his shaft. 

Luxord arched an eyebrow and asked suggestively, “You like?”

Xaldin responded by dominating him and pushing him up against the bed’s headboard to acquaint himself personally with the metal. Experimenting, he ran his tongue up across each rung of the Ladder and tugged at the PA ring gently.

“That’s a yes, I’d wager.”

“Heh.” Xaldin chuckled slightly. “Never had you pegged as such a deviant, Number X,” he commented, smirking at him. 

“What happens in Port Royal doesn’t always stay in Port Royal. You’d be surprised at what a bottle or two of rum can accomplish,” Luxord replied and laced his hands together behind his head, shifting to make himself more comfortable against the hard headboard.

Xaldin took in the sight of Luxord, beneath him, and grinned inwardly; he was going to make the Gambler pay for leaving him in the lurch, going to make him squirm until he begged. “You should go to Port Royal more often, then,” he murmured into Luxord’s ear, one hand trailing up and down his leg. He pressed against the blond, his mouth exploring the other’s ear, tongue teasing at his piercings, and fingers massaging the inside of his thighs. 

Luxord closed his eyes and turned his head away to give the rugged man greater access to his sensitive lobe. A moan escaped his lips – he was turned on beyond belief by the sensual way Xaldin was sucking and nipping at his earrings, and those tormenting fingers, touching everywhere but the one spot that begged it the most, made him harder than he already was, if that was even possible. It was payback, and he knew it. 

“What’s the matter? You can dish it out but can’t take it?” Xaldin teased, pausing his mischief long enough to speak.

“I’m not used to having my own tricks played against me,” Luxord confessed haltingly through gritted teeth, his breath shallow and needy. 

Xaldin chuckled, pleased with the admission. As a reward, he abandoned Luxord’s ear to travel south, attending to the more neglected parts of his body. He slipped one nipple into his mouth to suck at it, one hand tweaking the other one. Continuing his path with his mouth, he released his hand and encircled his arms around Luxord, drawing his body even closer. Lips brushed against his happy trail, stopping just short of his crotch, where Xaldin looked up and waited.

Luxord groaned, knowing what he wanted to hear. Ordinarily, he would have resisted, continuing the game and battling to be the victor, but at this point, all he could think about was the desire that was overwhelming him. He swallowed his pride, willing to concede this small point in order to achieve a greater end. “Please, Xaldin,” he said, trying not to sound too much like he was begging.

Reveling in the way he had managed to bend the Gambler to his will, Xaldin obliged with a contented smirk. He licked the tip of his head, tongue pressing against the metal of Luxord’s Prince Albert piercing in a sensation that made the other man squirm in pleasure. Xaldin paused to wet his fingers before slipping his mouth around the other’s fully-hardened length, one hand keeping busy as it probed gently at Luxord’s entrance. He slipped two fingers inside, causing his partner to swear uncharacteristically and arch into the contact.

Xaldin hummed in smug approval, reaching one hand up and slipping a finger into Luxord’s hot mouth, which eagerly received it. The blond moaned and sucked on it erotically, his eyes closed and cheeks flushed slightly at the overwhelming sensation of – the gambling Brit couldn’t think of a politer term in the heat of the moment – being  _ fucked _ in the mouth, up the arse, and with Xaldin’s own mouth all at once. He rolled his hips forward, urging Xaldin to continue. To his disappointment, the dreadlocked man withdrew his fingers, instead shifting and roughly grabbing Luxord’s hips with both hands. He held him down, grinning sadistically as he decided to play with the succession of frenum piercings studding his shaft.

“Fuck—you—Xaldin!” Luxord hissed jarringly, wriggling in his grip. He needed contact now, and the way Xaldin was using his tongue to tease at the metal balls of his barbells was driving him positively mad.

“Oh, I am,” Xaldin drawled in reply, his hand already reaching between his legs to stroke himself as he toyed with the uppermost rung of his partner’s Jacob’s Ladder. “The same time as I’m fucking you, as a matter of fact.” When Xaldin sat back, Luxord made an involuntary noise of disappointment at the sudden lack of attention he’d been receiving down there. The larger man glanced at him with a look of amusement, rummaging in his nightstand for the lube that he knew he had thrown in there at some point or another in the past.

Luxord chuckled slightly when he caught on to Xaldin’s intentions. He grinned perversely and reached for the bottle of lube, saying smoothly, “Allow me.” All he earned for his trouble was a swat at his hands from Xaldin, who was suddenly above him once more, his face mere centimeters from Luxord’s.

“I am  _ this _ fucking close to coming right now thanks to you and your whole spiel earlier about making me wait for you, and you think _ I’m _ about to let  _ you _ lube me up?” he all but snarled in Luxord’s ear. “I don’t think so.” He pulled away and poured a generous amount of liquid into his hand, taking a twisted form of pleasure in watching Luxord squirm beneath him as he stroked his shaft languidly, careful not to overdo it and risk climaxing on the spot.

“Premature ejaculation issues?” Luxord offered, fully aware that he was going to be punished severely for the suggestion. True to form, Xaldin reacted with a growl and slammed himself into Luxord with much more force than necessary, burying himself to the hilt. 

The Gambler chuckled even as he succumbed to the force, and Xaldin realized that the infuriating comment had been Luxord’s little way of provoking him into doing what he wanted. Apparently, he was growing tired of the slow teasing and wanted it his way: harder and faster. 

A smile curled Xaldin’s lips. “You’re a tricky bastard, Luxord.” He eased in and out, hips rolling forward. “But you do realize that you’re going to have to pay for that remark, right?”

Having lost some of his usual composure, Luxord was panting with effort, and Xaldin noticed that his short cropped hair was damp with sweat. The blond rallied and countered, “Of course. But it doesn’t really matter, because once all the cards have been dealt, I’m still taking the jackpot.” 

Xaldin, who had given up on fully understanding the Gambler and his euphemisms eons ago, simply grunted in reply and focused his attention on the task at hand, which was to drive the other man out of his mind. Still kneeling on the bed, he pulled Luxord’s pelvis closer to his own, deepening the penetration and causing Luxord to hiss and rock bath and forth to get the friction he desired. Xaldin’s hips fell into a rhythm of their own, matching his partner’s, and he couldn’t help but let out a low groan himself.

Thrusting in and out, Xaldin took his torture another step farther when he wrapped his hand around Luxord’s length, his thumb stroking in time with his thrusts, eliciting a keening moan from the Gambler. Xaldin took deep satisfaction at the fact that he was slick with precum and, quickening the movement of his hips, pumped him urgently, wanting to make Luxord cry out his name.

Luxord refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out submissively, but that didn’t stop the noises he was making from slipping out in a stream of jumbled curses, moans, and sighs. “Unh… fuck, Xaldin, you bloody—just—ahh…” One last thrust and a particularly coaxing jerk of Xaldin’s hand was all it took, and he came undone, arching as he rode out each wave of his climax, eyes clenched shut.

Xaldin, who had been waiting for this release ever since Luxord began his stupid little game, came almost instantaneously after the words left Luxord’s lips. He moaned aloud, hips bucking feverishly, and bent double over the blond. He lost control entirely, and the wind under his command surged throughout the room, rattling the windows and howling unrestrainedly. Luxord’s toes curled at the sudden gust of cool air and the Lancer’s dreadlocks blew every which way, and then, as quickly as it had began, the wind died down, reduced to a gentle breeze.

Xaldin, who had all but collapsed on top of Luxord, lay there for a few moments to regain his breath before pulling out of the Gambler and rolling off of him. Both men were still reeling, neither one of them speaking until Luxord, having recovered somewhat, pressed up against Xaldin’s back and wrapped his arms around him. 

The Lancer, still exhausted and desperately in need of sleep, moaned, “What, haven’t you had enough already? I thought the whole point of this vacation was to relax. So when am I going to get to do that?”

“Soon. But, you know, I did win this little game of pursuit.” Luxord walked his fingers down Xaldin’s arm.

“Wonderful. Congratulations.”

“Which means I should get a congratulatory kiss, eh?”

Xaldin opened his eyes and stared at Luxord, who was looking at him expectantly. “And then can I get some rest, dammit?”

“But of course. When have I ever prevented you from doing so?” 

Xaldin rolled his eyes and counted to ten before resigning, since he knew the persistent Nobody wouldn’t let him be until he agreed to his terms. He pulled Luxord into his arms and bowed his head to touch his, black crown meeting blond. Piercing violet eyes locked with deep blue ones before Xaldin broke the spell by leaning in to give him his celebratory kiss. Luxord returned it with fervor. Worming his hands free, the Gambler reached up and wound his hands in Xaldin’s dreadlocks, tugging him closer for an even deeper kiss.

It was a slow, intimate kiss. A real one. There was something about it that set it apart from the wild, rough kisses they had shared in the lust of sex. It was separate from the simple action-reaction, impatient war they had engaged in, tangling themselves into a frantic mess of limbs. Lips melted into lips, and it was almost tender, if such a word could be applied to the two men.

When Xaldin finally pulled back, he didn’t know just how long they had been kissing for, as each hungry act of desire mingled with lust caused both of them to lose track of the time. He found himself practically on top of Luxord, having apparently shifted his weight at some point during the passionate kiss. He rolled over to lay flat on his back but found himself a little too close to the side of the bed for comfort. One arm instinctively lashed out, grabbing for purchase, but the man realized seconds too late that the lance he had used to threaten the Gambler earlier was still in position. The blade sliced into his skin and he swore, blood oozing out of the incision. What had seemed like a good idea then seemed idiotic in retrospect, and now he was paying for it. Painfully.

The smug, post-coital expression on Luxord’s face vanished, and Xaldin couldn’t precisely identify the look that replace it – was that worry?

“Bloody hell…” Luxord muttered, grabbing Xaldin’s hand to look at the cut. “Shit, Xaldin.” The metal had carved open his entire palm, slicing vertically across his wrist up to his fingertips. “Go see Vexen later. He’ll be able to provide you with some form of analgesic, I’m sure…” He tried to stem the flow of blood using a sheet, the closest dressing he could reach, red blossoms budding on the stark white fabric. When he looked up at the injured man, he found the Lancer watching him with an amused look on his face. 

“Worried about me? Funny. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you loved me.”

Reasonably satisfied that Xaldin wasn’t about to kick the bucket, Luxord left him well alone. “What if I said that I did?” It was more of a statement than a question, and the Gambler met the other’s eyes with a slightly challenging glimmer in his eyes.

“Then I’d say that you’re a fool,” Xaldin replied. The words were blunt, but not malicious. “You have no heart to love with, and nor do I.” 

“That might be so,” Luxord conceded. “But you forget what makes us higher-level Nobodies special. We can remember our pasts. I remember what it was like to love. Even if it’s merely a ghost of the past, I can say in all honesty that, right now, it simply feels right. ”

Xaldin answered stoically, “To hold something dear is to let it hold you, Luxord. Being pinned down by feelings is a sign of weakness.”

“Yet  _ you _ acquiesced to let me hold you,” Luxord retorted, and Xaldin fell silent at the jibe. The blond sighed and rubbed his thin beard, searching for the words to continue. “We strive daily to regain our hearts. That is the mission of the Organization, incontestably. Yet, despite lacking hearts ourselves, we are not completely devoid of emotions because of our histories and the memories that remain. Love is not unattainable.”

Xaldin gave him an impassive look. “It’s pretend. You cannot feel; you know that.” “Then let me pretend.” Luxord met his eyes unflinchingly, his tone defiant.

Xaldin was the first to break eye contact. “…Hmph.” He turned over in the bed and pulled the sheet over him, unconscious of the streak of blood that the still-smarting wound left on it. After a moment, he felt Luxord lay down beside him as well, his weight settling down comfortably on the mattress. 

He was left alone to silently ponder Luxord’s words. Love was a curious emotion, one that he, a Nobody, scorned. It made humans weak, pitiful, dependent on another for their happiness. And yet… he couldn’t help but reflect on the years before he, and the rest of the apprentices, were swallowed by darkness. When he was a Somebody, not a Nobody. Dilan may have been strong and relatively down-to-earth, but he’d had a heart, and as such, was no stranger to love. And when he recalled what it was like to love another being, he could almost feel the warmth that such an emotion brings spread within him. Perhaps the Gambler of Fate had a point there. 

Xaldin turned over in order to say something to him, apologize perhaps, only to find that Luxord had all but conked out, sprawled uncharacteristically across the bed in a most undignified fashion. One arm was flung above his head and his mouth was hanging open shamelessly. You wouldn’t have expected it from the cool, enigmatic gentleman, but he was most vulnerable and uninhibited in his sleep. Xaldin had to smile and scooted across the bed so that he was beside him once more. He settled down and let his eyes drift shut himself…

Only to be jolted into reality by a sudden, loud bang and a commotion that filled the corridors. He could hear screams coming from somewhere off in the distance and wondered how on earth Luxord could sleep through the clamor. He tried to cover his ears and block out the noise, but the loud voices filtered through.

“Xiggy, if you don’t give me those trunks back, I’m going to drown you in your sleep, I swear!”

“Ah, but you look so good when you’re not in them!” 

“What’s going on out – good grief, Demyx! Put some pants on before you blind everyone in the castle!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault, blame him!” came a petulant whine.

“Well, if you insist on prancing around naked, kindly go do it somewhere else so that I can work on my experiments in peace!”

An additional seductive voice joined the fray. “Mm, I can experiment on you if you’d like…”

“What are you say—?!” His exclamation was cut short by a shrill yelp. “Number XI!”

“You know, Vexen, next time you’re coming with us, whether you like it or not.” Another lilting voice, female this time.

“…Can someone please explain why the hell there’s a dancing crab in my bed?” 

Another loud bang resounded, presumably from a door being slammed open, and a seventh voice shouted irritably, “If you wouldn’t  _ mind _ , there are some people in this castle who would prefer to have some peace and quiet for once!”

“Too bad, you had the whole day to yourselves for your ‘peace and quiet.’ Haven’t you had enough sex yet, or do you still need more time?”

“Wait—that’s not what I—stop laughing!”

Xaldin closed his eyes, burrowing further under the covers to tune out the noise. Maybe it was all right to pretend. Maybe someday, they would regain their hearts and be able to truly and finally exist, to be able to enjoy the luxuries of the heart. But for now… he could learn to be satisfied with the illusion. He faced the sleeping man beside him, who was now snoring, and allowed a smile to cross his lips. Perhaps this vacation was just what he needed.


	2. Chapter 2

Xaldin reached for his clock to see what time it was, but his hand only hit the smooth surface of his nightstand. He groped around to find it, only to make a face when his fingers landed in something wet. Goopy and wet. He finally opened his eyes to see that it was lube. He grimaced and wiped it off on the sheet before redirecting his attentions to what he was searching for. Clock. He needed to find the clock. He scanned the room suspiciously before his eyes alighted on the debris on the floor and he recalled that he had already broken his alarm clock just that morning. Well, he’d have to ask Luxord what time it was then. That triggered his memory, and the events from earlier that day slowly started to come back into focus, and he rolled over in bed to check on Luxord. 

Xaldin had to snort at the sight. The Gambler was still sound asleep, passed out with his legs tangled up in the sheets and his arms wrapped around a pillow. He was never going to let the other man live this down. Although he couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of annoyance that Luxord had chosen to cuddle up to a pillow instead of him in his sleep – then he shook his head and the thought passed. 

_ Idiot _ , Xaldin said to himself irately and climbed out of bed to clean himself up and get dressed again, grabbing his discarded clothes from their spot on the floor. He only got as far as tugging his pants back on before being interrupted by the sound of someone pounding on the door. Loudly. 

“Hang on!” he shouted, muttering a few choice words under his breath and pulling on the rest of his clothes to make himself semi-presentable. People only knocked on his door for two reasons: if they wanted to coerce him into doing something for them, which never worked, no matter how hard Xigbar tried; and if —

“Heya, Xaldin,” Axel began, lifting his hand in greeting when Xaldin opened the door. “We’re hungry.” No beating around the bush; he learned a long time ago that it was useless to try to stall the Lancer with small talk. 

“You know where the kitchen is. No one’s stopping you,” he answered shortly and tried to shut the door in the other’s face, but Axel, who had been expecting such a reaction, lashed out to catch the door before he could do so.

“Well, yeah, but you know they don’t let me use the stove anymore after that last incident, and—” he cut himself short, and Xaldin felt a sinking dread come over him as he saw the redhead raise his eyebrows and smirk, craning his neck to peer behind Xaldin. “Is that  _ Luxord _ in your bed—”

“Axel.” Xaldin was doing his best to retain his composure but was silently seething inside – of all the people who could have stumbled across this little discovery, Number VIII was the worst. He had no doubt that half the castle would be aware of his encounter with Luxord within five minutes after the loudmouth departed. Or maybe he was giving him too much credit. Two minutes would suffice. “I would highly recommend that you remove yourself immediately.”

“Sheesh, touchy, touchy…” Axel was still grinning as he backed away, hands held up in the universal don’t-kill-me sign. “Just thought that—”

For the third time that day, his sentence was interrupted, but this time, the voice came from another source. 

“Don't squander your time,” the now-awake Luxord cut in from his position on the side of Xaldin’s bed, where he was shirtless but, mercifully, wearing pants. “If you have time enough to be hanging around here, you have time enough to be spent elsewhere. It is no concern of yours whether or not Xaldin takes it upon himself to humor me with a game or two on our day off.”

“Riiiiight,” Axel said knowingly. “ _ Games _ . Now, I gotta get going, cause I’m a busy man. Food to find, kitchens to blow up, that sort of thing. Catch ya later.” He raised his hand in farewell and departed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Hmph.” Xaldin shut the door, grumbling to himself. “How I’d dearly love to wring his skinny neck.”

“Really?” Luxord asked lazily, looking thoroughly unconcerned about the situation. “I would have thought a lance through the side would be more your style.” 

“Oh no,” Xaldin answered, allowing himself to smirk as he sat down on the edge of the bed and folded his arms. “I save that sort of thing for idiots like you. A game, Luxord? Are you aware what he must be telling the others about us now?”

Luxord pursed his lips, giving the matter some serious consideration before deciding, “Oh, I think I can imagine one or two things…” He grinned and leaned back against Xaldin, his eyes glazing over. 

The unamused Lancer stood up abruptly, forcing Luxord to catch himself before he lost his balance and toppled over, his support gone. Xaldin pointed at the door and growled, “Out.”

Luxord bowed his head and replied humbly, “Glad to oblige.” He snatched his coat from the floor and shrugged it on, all with an arrogant, amused expression that infuriated Xaldin to no end. On his way out the door, he paused for a final comment. “And by the way…your jacket’s on inside-out.”

Xaldin slammed the door shut behind him with a gust of wind and groaned. Why did people have to make things so damn complicated? 

  
\------------------------

Luxord strolled down the halls of The Castle That Never Was, humming a little ditty to himself as he rifled through the deck of cards he always kept in his left pocket. The Gambler was feeling pretty chuffed with himself, considering his conquest a marvelous success. As it was, he had nothing further to do until the routine meeting of the poker league tonight, and settled for wandering the castle at ease. He liked to play a mindless game with himself when he was bored, asking the cards which path he should take whenever he came to a fork in the road. Seven or below meant a left, the remaining values and face cards a right. It was only on his third turn when he passed another member of the Organization, who seemed to have his own reasons for prowling the corridors. Luxord quickly took in his surroundings, noting that he had wandered right into the Superior’s quarters. That explained it.

“Ahh, Number VII,” Luxord greeted him cordially, inclining his head in recognition. “Care to join us for a game of poker tonight?” The poker league convened on Friday nights. Every week, Luxord extended the invitation to Saix, and every week, the Luna Diviner refused outright. Still, it never hurt to ask. Rudol’s mother had brought him up with manners, after all. 

Saix paused and looked at him, a steely glint reflected in his yellow eyes. “You’re not aware? Lord Xemnas has banished your little poker league.”

Luxord frowned. He clearly had not received the memo. “Now why would he do that?”

Saix seemed to be contemplating whether or not he should dignify Luxord’s question with a response before he relented and listed, “For starters, Axel routinely sets cards aflame when he loses, Zexion often causes at least one person to complain per night due to his manipulative tactics, and if I recall correctly, the last time Xigbar gloated over winning a hand, Larxene nearly put his second eye out with one of her kunai. Not to mention the fact that you cheat.”

Luxord felt affronted at the number of accusations. “I am affronted,” he said, looking genuinely insulted at the insinuation. “You make a mockery of me.”

“Be that as that may,” Saix responded dryly, “it’s the truth.” He began to walk away but halted when Luxord intervened glibly, determined to save his poker league.

“Let’s make a deal, shall we?” he asked smoothly, leaning against the wall to block Saix’s path. “You allow me to host one more night.” He unsheathed his cards, displaying them with one hand. “If everything goes smoothly, we remain. If not…” – he wrapped his fingers around the cards, curling his hand into a ball and unclenching it to reveal naught but thin air – “we disperse. Savvy?”

“I am not betting with you, Number X.”

“Marvelous. I’ll hold you to it,” the Gambler said airily, as if he hadn’t even heard. He resumed walking, humming the first few bars of “Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah” as he continued shuffling through his cards. 

Before Saix could form an appropriately biting response, Luxord had already turned the corner. The Berserker snarled at the spot where his inferior had been moments before, allowing a look of sheer annoyance to flit across his usually impassive face. He would have to keep an eye out for Number X. 

  
\------------------------

After turning his coat right-side out and stalking around his room moodily for a few minutes, Xaldin decided that he might as well head down to The Kitchen That Never Was and ensure that Axel hadn’t lit the place on fire. 

The area seemed eerily quiet, he thought apprehensively as he swung down the corridor that led to the kitchen; ordinarily, chatter could be heard from quite a distance thanks to the wide-open, sparse rooms of the castle that allowed noises to reverberate easily. He was wary about the sight that would meet his eyes, but was relieved to find that the cause for the quiet was simply that the kitchen was devoid of the usual rambunctious crowd. Axel was sitting alone, kicking back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table. Clearly bored, he had summoned up a tiny flame and was attempting to toast a piece of bread by hand. Several charred pieces had long been discarded, littering the area around him with remnants of what used to be perfectly good bread. Wasteful, Xaldin grumbled internally. 

Noticing his visitor, Axel grinned and removed his feet from the table, sending his chair banging down on all fours. The flame flared, his concentration broken, and the piece of bread completely ignited. The redhead swore, dropping his failed attempt at sustenance and stomping on it to snuff out the flames, reducing the hapless toast to smithereens. “Xaldin, my man!” he said exuberantly. “Came to feed me after all?”

“Hardly,” Xaldin answered, folding his arms. “I can’t say I’m not surprised that you haven’t already destroyed half the kitchen yourself.” His eyes flicked down towards the mess of crumbled, singed toast that bedecked the floor. “…Dare I ask?”

“Yeah, well…” Axel grumbled, somewhat put out. “Mr. Mastermind over here is apparently keeping tabs on me.” He jerked one thumb over his shoulder at Zexion, whom Xaldin hadn’t noticed before. The diminutive schemer was pleasantly ensconced in a chair of his own in the corner, absorbed in his book and nibbling on some pickled vegetables he had prepared earlier that day. He raised his hand in acknowledgement, eyes still glued to the pages. 

“I see.” He allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips. Of course Axel would be restricted from using the appliances. He wasn’t allowed near the gas stove for obvious reasons and fared no better with the toaster or the microwave. This wasn’t to say that he wouldn’t try, of course, but he supposed that’s what Zexion was there to prevent. 

“So what I was thinking about,” Axel drawled, reaching up to clap Xaldin on the shoulder, “was maybe some nachos, with jalapeño peppers and melted cheese and—”

“Regardless of what you may think, Axel,” Xaldin spoke up, shaking off the other’s hand as if it were a leech (which, come to think of it, was an oddly appropriate simile), “I am not your personal chef.” His words held a note of finality in it. Axel appeared as if he were going to argue further, but his train of thought was interrupted by the sound – and sight – of Demyx announcing his presence by skidding into the kitchen showily with much fanfare.

“Guess what?” Demyx asked the room at large. Not waiting for an answer, he steamrollered on, “Didya hear? X-Face said he’s gonna give the poker league another chance!”

“Why?” The question came from the ordinarily reticent Zexion, who looked up from his book and paused mid-bite, the hand that held one of his pickled vegetables hovering in front of his mouth. 

Demyx shrugged. He was just the self-appointed messenger and felt the sudden and compelling need to relay the news. “I dunno, that’s just what I heard.”

“Who knows what goes on inside the mind of the Divine Lunatic?” Axel smirked. “Moon Man’s a nutcase. Or should I say,  _ barking  _ mad…”

Demyx’s face blanched of all color. “Uh, Axel…”

Axel paused. He recognized that look. “…He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?” 

“Let me just forewarn you,” Saix, who was indeed standing in the doorway, said icily as Axel turned to face him, still the picture of bravado, “that if anything  _ funny _ happens tonight, rest assured you’ll live to regret it.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, radiating displeasure from every pore. 

The minute the blue-haired man was out of earshot, Axel sniggered. “Did he just  _ threaten _ me?”

Demyx shook his head and grinned in disbelief, clapping the redhead on the back. “You’re a braver man than I am, Ax.”

“So you’ve heard, I take it?” The kitchen’s occupants turned to find Luxord leaning against the doorframe. Xaldin stiffened imperceptibly, and Axel’s eyes glinted knowingly. “We’re under surveillance tonight.”

“…So does that mean no strip poker?” Demyx said aloud thoughtfully and looked up at the ceiling, partly speaking to himself. He lowered his eyes to find four Nobodies looking at him with equally odd expressions on their faces. “What?” he protested defensively. 

Axel was the first to recover, snickering as he answered, “Nah, but I bet Xigbar would be more than willing to play one-on-one if you asked him to. And since we all know that he’s the only reason why you play in the first place…”

Demyx looked wounded. “Hey, man, that hurts!”

“Just sayin’ the truth, that’s all,” Axel grinned, cocking an eyebrow. 

“It’s not true!”

“Sure, and I’m the sugar plum fairy.”

Demyx clutched his chest in mock pain. “Ow, bleedin’ from the heart over here.” 

“Fools,” Xaldin said contemptuously, observing Demyx’s dramatics and Axel’s laughter while Luxord looked on in amusement. “Pretending as though you have hearts… I cannot see the sense in it.”

“Oh, we do too have hearts,” Demyx said earnestly, still smiling. 

“We’ve discussed this before, Demyx,” Xaldin responded. “We are Nobodies. Empty shells with no hearts to feel with. Incomplete beings.”

“But Xaldin!” Demyx started, passion in his voice. “You can’t say that we feel absolutely nothing, because it’s not true, and—”

The conversation with Luxord that he had had earlier about emotions and their lack thereof was still fresh in his mind, and Xaldin was determined to put an end to this nonsense. “Any emotions you may think you feel are mere illusions. You cling to this dream, and you deceive yourself into believing that these memories of emotions are true. But it’s only a game of charades.”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with Luxord,” Axel commented innocuously. 

Both men shot a warning look at Axel, who leered back at them. 

Thankfully, Demyx was too invigorated to catch the simultaneous glare. He clenched his fists and objected with a defiant, “You’re wrong.”

“Am I, now?” Xaldin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that is your place to say, Number IX.” The kid should be thankful that he wasn’t Vexen, or else he would have gotten an earful about lack of respect for one’s elders. 

“I’ll prove it!” Demyx argued. “I’ll make you admit that we can feel.”

Xaldin let out a short bark of laughter. “Good luck with that,” was all he could say.

“If I can get you to say that you can feel emotion, will you admit that I’m right?” 

Xaldin wouldn’t have agreed if he wasn’t one hundred percent certain that the Nocturne wouldn’t succeed. He was challenging one of the most impassive members of the Organization over something as ludicrous as emotions, the trappings of the human heart, which were beyond their grasp entirely. It was nonsense, which was the only reason why he even agreed to this ridiculous bet. “Fine. Take as long as you want, but I find it necessary to remind you just whom you are dealing with. Don’t expect to succeed.”

Demyx was aglow with the challenge, fiery determination reflected in those teal eyes. “I’ll do it,” he resolved, and left the room purposefully. 

Demyx never was particularly inclined to do work, perform missions, or otherwise exert himself when he could help it. But when he got fired up about something, he wasn’t about to back down without a fight, Xaldin had to give him that. 

Zexion, who had been observing the shenanigans over his book, a faint glimmer of a smile dancing on his lips, snapped his tome shut and stood up. “As exciting as all this may be,” he said wryly, “I must depart. I have business to attend to.” Tucking his book under one arm and carrying his dish of pickled vegetables with him, he swept out of the room, brushing past Luxord. 

The Gambler, who had remained remarkably silent throughout the exchange, spoke up as well. “I suppose I should retire to my chambers for now as well.” He pushed himself up off the doorjamb. “But you know, even if I did have a heart, supposing that Demyx’s theory proves to be true…” he contemplated, drawing out the words. “I still wouldn’t feel bad about kicking your collective arses at poker.” He smirked and turned to leave. “I expect to see you tonight. Don’t be late.”

That left just the two of them left in the kitchen. The ensuing silence was broken when Axel’s stomach growled loudly. “ _ So _ , about those nachos…”

  
\------------------------

Alone and away from his challenger, Demyx deflated slightly. He realized that he really had no idea what he was getting into. At least it wasn’t Luxord he was betting against, he reasoned, but that still didn’t change the fact that there was no way he was going to single-handedly prove Xaldin, of all people, wrong. Still ruminating, he heard a low whistle and turned around to find Xigbar sitting on one of the balconies that overlooked the high-ceilinged corridor. 

The Freeshooter dropped down from his perch on the ledge, landing gracefully in front of Demyx. He straightened up and grinned. “Never thought I’d see the day where you’d stick up for yourself like that, huh?”

“Do you always have to eavesdrop?” Demyx said in mock exasperation. “You couldn’t’ve come and helped me out?” 

“It’s what I do,” Xigbar answered breezily. “Besides it’s more fun this way sometimes.”

Demyx rolled his eyes but grinned anyways; Xigbar’s grin was infectious. “Well, you’ll help me out at least, right?” he asked hopefully.

“No can do, kiddo.”

“What?” Demyx yelped. “Why not?” He pouted, having expected at least some support from his partner in crime. 

“Hey, it’s your bet, little dude,” Xigbar said and, as was his custom, flipped gravity and hung upside-down in mid-air. He grinned down at an irate Demyx, who had folded his arms and was scowling up at the Freeshooter. “No, but seriously. I’m not the one you should be asking for help if you want to beat Xaldin at his own game. Not if you want to make him admit that he can feel emotion, at least. Take my word for it – we know each other too well. I’m staying far away from this one.”

“Aww,” Demyx mumbled in disappointment, forced to reevaluate his plan. “You can’t help at all?”

“’Fraid not, kiddo. But…” he added slyly and, in one swift movement, grabbed Demyx and swung him up into his arms to join him in the air. “I’ll make it up to you,” he finished, smirking as he leaned in to kiss his neck. 

Demyx shivered and pressed against Xigbar’s body, wrapping his arms and legs around him tightly. He was always petrified that he would fall whenever Xigbar did this to him, despite protests from the older man that he didn’t trust him. He nuzzled against his lover, welcoming the lips sucking at his neck and murmuring, “Yeah? How?”

He could feel Xigbar’s chuckle, breath hot on his skin. “Well, I heard that you have a thing for strip poker,” he teased.

Demyx squirmed in his embrace. “I still haven’t forgiven you for this morning,” he admonished, but he was already losing his resolve. 

“What? Oh, the swim trunk thing? Don’t worry about it, Vexen’ll get over it.”

“It wasn’t Vexen that I – Ooh, that feels good…” Distracted, Demyx moaned slightly as Xigbar’s strong hands slid up his back, one hand cradling his neck and the other gently pulling him into a kiss to shut him up. He instinctively returned it, parting his lips to allow Xigbar entrance. “Mmmn,” he groaned, reluctantly pulling back and turning his head away before the kiss got too passionate and he wasn’t able to resist any longer. “Okay, okay, can I take a rain check on this? I’ve gotta go figure out what I’m gonna do about this bet, ask the others for help…” he trailed off apologetically. 

Xigbar made a dissenting noise but grudgingly lowered the blond to the floor. All problems forgotten, Demyx beamed up at him, blew him a kiss, then determinedly made his way down the winding corridor, a man on a mission for once. Xigbar smiled faintly after him, watching until he disappeared out of sight. The kid really was cute. He lingered for a few seconds before being swallowed by the darkness, enveloped in purple tendrils of smoke, and vanishing from sight.

  
\------------------------

Demyx lifted one hand and knocked on the heavy door emblazoned with the Roman numeral VI. He rocked back and forth on his heels for a minute before coming to the conclusion that Zexion wasn’t in his room. He turned to leave when he heard a scuffling noise from behind the door and swiveled back to face it, a glimmer of hope in his chest.

Zexion cracked open the door and glared out at him suspiciously from behind the fringe of his hair. “What?” 

“I just—” Demyx began, only to be interrupted as Zexion continued speaking.

“I’m busy.”

“But—”

“Please leave a message after the tone.”

“But—”

“Goodbye.” With that note of finality, the Cloaked Schemer shut the door in Demyx’s face in dismissal, leaving the blond standing there to wonder what just happened.

“…Okay,” a bewildered Demyx said, turning away and shaking his head in mild disbelief. “Man, what does he  _ do _ in there?” He sighed, crossing Zexion off his mental list of Organization members. He was starting his way at the top and working his way down the numbers. He wasn’t idiotic enough to ask Xemnas, Xigbar had already refused, Xaldin was obviously his competitor, Vexen had tossed him out of his lab, Lexaeus was nowhere to be found, and Zexion just shot him down before he could even ask. Saix was next, but he doubted that he would—

“Hey.”

Demyx jumped, yelping in shock. He swiveled around, his heart – because he  _ did have a heart, goddammit, he did –  _ pounding in his chest.

To his credit, Xigbar looked as if he honestly didn’t mean to startle him. “Whoa, easy,” he said mildly, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Demyx grumbled, still recovering. He shook his head to shake it off.

“Relax, I’m here to help. And I’ve gotta say, I’m surprised you haven’t already asked him yet.”

“Who? I’m going down the line. Saix’s next.”

Xigbar snorted. “You’re not seriously thinking of –” he stopped himself, deciding he didn’t want to go down that path. “No,” he hastily amended. “Flamesilocks himself.”

You could practically see the light-bulb go off over his head. Demyx raised his index finger triumphantly. “Aha.”

  
\------------------------

“Hey, Axel!” Demyx called out, maneuvering through the corridors to find his way back to the kitchen, where he was sure Axel would still be.

“Yo, Demyx,” Axel said through a mouthful of cheese and tortilla chips. “Xaldin caved!” He gestured at the mound of nachos he was holding. “Want some?”

Distracted by the potential of food, Demyx exclaimed, “Ooh, yeah!” He took an unnecessarily large bite, only to cough, spraying bits of food on the floor. “Ack – what, what did you put on here?” His eyes were streaming and he ran to get a glass of water.

“Uh, let’s see… Spicy cheddar cheese, jalapeño peppers, barbeque sauce, chilies, salsa…”

Demyx gagged and threw himself down on a chair. He didn’t have half the tolerance for spicy foods that the resident pyromaniac did. Then he remembered that he came here on a mission. “Oh, Axel! Listen, man. I need your help.”

“Help, huh? Let’s hear it.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta figure out some way to get Xaldin to admit that we – that he – has feelings. Got any ideas?”

A feral grin spread across Axel’s face as he thought. “Oh, I know just the thing…”

“What?” Demyx bounced to his feet eagerly.

“Welllll,” Axel drawled. “You’ll never guess who I saw in Xaldin’s room earlier…”

  
\------------------------

Today, Luxord decided, was a good day. He’d accomplished everything he’d set off to do since that morning, and was left with nothing left to do until his poker night. No staying out 

‘til the wee hours of the morning scouting out new worlds, no battling gigantic Heartless determined to skin you alive, no coming home bloodied and worse for the wear, none of the ordinary trials and tribulations of the work day. He smiled in contentment and kicked back in his chair. How he loved holidays. He closed one eye and squinted as he took aim at the dartboard he’d installed on the wall by his bed (well, how else was a Nobody supposed to entertain himself on his lonesome? Zexion had his books, Demyx his sitar, and he had his games. It was as simple as that). 

Two sharp raps at his door interrupted him mid-throw, but before he had time to answer, his guests invited themselves in with an apparent lack of regard for their host’s wishes. Seeing that it was only Axel and Demyx, Luxord relaxed. “And to what do I owe this dubious pleasure, gentlemen?” he asked casually and resumed lobbing his darts at the target. Bull’s eye.  _ Excellent _ . “I take it you’re up to something. You have terrible poker faces.”

“Bingo,” Axel said, grinning evilly. “So let’s cut to the chase. You and Xaldin fucked, right?”

_ Thunk.  _ A dart bounced off the wall haphazardly as Luxord missed the target entirely. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about,” he maintained, trying in vain to act cool and collected, but his slipup betrayed him.

Demyx was clearly trying to suppress his snickering. He bit his lip and recomposed himself, but couldn’t keep from grinning as he said, “Don’t worry, we’re not here to rag on you about it, right, Axel?”

“Not  _ now _ , anyways. Can’t make any promises for later.” 

“Yeah, so the point is, we need your help. And since you’ve got connections to Xaldin, you’re perfect.”

“If this has anything to do with your bet with him, I’m afraid to say that you can count me out. It’s a two man game you’re playing.” He resumed tossing darts at the board, his aim somewhat improved after the initial shock. 

“C’mon, Lux, you agree with me, right? About the hearts, I mean?” Demyx pleaded.

Luxord paused, idly twirling one of the darts in his fingers. “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that we possess hearts,” he said thoughtfully. Demyx opened his mouth to argue his point, but Axel shut him up with a swift kick to the shins. “But I do believe that we retain some semblance of feelings, yes.”

“So you’ll help us?”

“I never said that. And what, precisely, do you mean by ‘help?’”

“Well,” Axel interjected. “We’re trying to make Xaldin slip up. And yeah, there’s no way we’re gonna get him to admit that he feels love or remorse or sadness. The man’s too on his guard for that, and he’s in denial. But see, that’s where you come into play…”

Luxord listened as Demyx and Axel detailed their plan, and he slowly began to smirk. When they finished, he mulled it over for a minute. “I can’t say I’m entirely confident that you’ll succeed at making Xaldin voice the fact that he possesses feelings of any sort.” He knew from experience. “It’s a losing bet. But…” he grinned. “Sometimes you need to play against the greatest odds to net the biggest payout. Deal me in.”

  
\------------------------

“So, gents,” Luxord began two hours later, presenting his cards with a flourish. Larxene shot him a nasty look. “And lady,” he added as an afterthought. “Who’s ready to lose spectacularly?” He smirked smugly and tapped the deck of cards against his palm, looking around at the table. He, Larxene, Demyx, Xigbar, Xaldin, Lexaeus, Zexion, and Axel had convened for their usual game of Hold ‘Em, their preferred form of poker. 

“In your dreams, card boy,” Larxene scoffed with a toss of her head.

“You know, someday, we’re playing a card game that’s not poker,” Axel commented, propping his head on his hand. “Which is all luck, and everyone knows you have too much of that on your hands.”

“Nonsense,” Luxord replied breezily, shuffling the cards expertly. “It’s  _ skill _ , m’dear chap.”

“That, or you cheat,” Xigbar piped in.

“I beg to differ—”

“Let’s just get on with it,” Lexaeus rumbled, and the rabble quickly settled down.

“Right,” Luxord said quickly. “Ante up.” Everyone chipped in, and he began dealing out the cards, two face-down to each player.

“So, what’s Saix’s deal?” Xigbar asked in an undertone as he received his cards. He nodded at the blue-haired man who was sitting removed from the table, watching the group out of the corner of his eye. 

“According to him, too many, ah, hijinks ensue during our poker games,” Luxord responded, laying out the first three face-up cards: the five of spades, three of hearts, and six of clubs. “Apparently he feels the need to keep an eye on us. Place your bets.”

“I can hear you,” Saix snarled warningly from his position some distance away.

Xigbar waved jauntily at the scar-faced man before turning back to the conversation as the bets made their way around the table. “Oh, you mean like that one time we were betting for dares and Zexion had to—”

“I thought I told you that we were never to speak of this again,” Zexion hissed, glaring daggers across the table at Xigbar. A wave of snickers coursed through the group. The diminutive Schemer scowled at everyone at large and placed his bet.

With everyone in, Luxord dealt another card face-up, a four this time. He scanned the community cards quickly, noting the potential plays that could be made with them and possible outcomes. He could use this information to his advantage. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t have to cheat in order to win, although he certainly could have done so. He was skilled in the art of swindling, after all. And granted, perhaps he had flipped an Ace from the bottom of the deck before, if only to liven up the game a bit, but that was besides the point. No, the secret lied in reading his opponents, and the cardshark was a master at it, if he did say so himself. After playing cards for so long, he’d grown accustomed to his fellow players’ quirks and could reasonably deduce the quality of their hand based on their mannerisms. 

Take Axel, for instance. Luxord could read him like a book; when he had a good hand, he more often than not made a show of sighing or shrugging and said things like, “Eh, I guess I’ll call” or “Dunno why I’m doing this, but what the hell.” An overactor, through and through. 

Or Demyx, for that matter. Demyx was a worrier who bit his lip at the first sign of trouble, or when a hand wasn’t going his way. Currently, he was chewing on the corner of his mouth as he contemplated his next action, eyes darting over to his pile of munny to determine whether or not he should bid or not before eventually choosing to remain in for the next turn.

Zexion, on the other hand, was a problem. Calm, collected Zexion, an illusionist with a poker face to rival his own. Sometimes Luxord was able to discern when he was pleased with his cards by the fleeting flash of excitement in his eyes. Unfortunately, he was offering no clues today. It was bothersome.

But Xaldin was the one he was really interested in, and he made sure to keep a close eye on him, watching him for the telltale signs of a successful hand. He scanned his face closely, keeping an eye out for any noticeable quirks – and there it was. The lips of his mouth may not have been turned up and his eyes were carefully expressionless, but he was still smiling, albeit imperceptibly. Luxord caught the slight movement of Xaldin pressing his lips together to keep from betraying himself. He began to meticulously, unthinkingly stack his munny as a way of release.  _ Ahh.  _ This was a good sign. Unless Xaldin was bluffing, and Luxord didn’t think he was, there was a fine chance that he was feeling pleased with his hand. He simply called when his turn arrived, and Luxord gathered that he wasn’t raising to avoid rousing suspicion this early in the game. A wise move. 

Axel was the last person before the dealer to bet and the first in the game to fold, sighing loudly as he gave up. “You deal really sucky hands, Luxord, did you know that?”

“Well, you’re in luck then,” Luxord replied, “because I fold as well.” Truthfully, he believed he could have won this round with the eight and two in his possession, but sometimes a man had to make sacrifices for the greater good. And in this instance, he saw that Xaldin had a strong chance of winning. With just a five, three, six, and four in the community hand thus far and no dominant suit, there were only a limited amount of combinations. From what he gathered thanks to his quick, glimpsing observations, Larxene had a sound hand, while Zexion was a toss-up as usual. Overall, his odds were good. The Gambler dealt the final card of the round, placing it next to the others in the center of the table: the two of clubs.

Larxene had a terrible poker face, but she enjoyed using that to her advantage to knock out her competitors. A wicked grin snaked across her face as she pushed her pile of munny to the center of the table. “All in,” she cooed.

“Fold,” Demyx said immediately, intimidated and not willing to risk losing all the cash he had earned via tips while playing his sitar during his downtime on other worlds. 

Xigbar, ever the thrill seeker, matched Larxene’s bet amidst many rolled eyes. Predictably, he always bet high, whether or not he had a good hand. He couldn’t care less about the munny, but he always liked being a part of the fun. 

Xaldin, Luxord knew, was the exact opposite of Xigbar and a very cautious and calculated bidder. “All in,” he said evenly, allowing himself a smirk as he too placed his bet. 

“Oooh,” Demyx stage-whispered, expressing the tense anticipation everyone felt before the showdown. “Intense.”

Zexion and Lexaeus were less foolhardy and followed Demyx’s lead, discarding their hands instead of putting everything at stake this early in the night. Xigbar was one thing, but Xaldin going all in made things a lot more serious.

Undeterred by her competition, Larxene was the first to reveal her hand. “Read ‘em and weep, boys,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. She revealed the six and four in her hand, resulting in a straight, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2. Given the cards available and their low numbers, it was essentially one of the highest hands she could get. Luxord felt a small twinge of regret at having to discard his hand and therefore surrender the pot, but he consoled himself with the potentiality that Xaldin would best Larxene and he could proceed with his plans.

Next up, Xigbar flipped over his cards carelessly, revealing his two-pair. “Well, that sucked,” he said aloofly, tipping his chair back. There was a brief moment of silence as the entire table looked at the two fours and two threes.

“You put all in for  _ that? _ ” Zexion finally said.

“Gotta problem with that?” Xigbar asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Never,’ Zexion deadpanned and propped his chin on his hand. “Xaldin?”

“Not bad, XII,” Xaldin said, nodding at Larxene in acknowledgement. “But, I’m afraid, not good enough.” He turned over his own cards, a seven and a six, resulting in a straight to rival Larxene’s: 7, 6, 5, 4, 3.

Larxene scowled, her victory ripped out from beneath her. “Whatever,” was all she said, her voice bitingly sarcastic. She pushed her chair back from the table and folded her arms in resentment.

Luxord smirked; it had all played out beautifully. “Congratulations,” he said to Xaldin, clapping lightly. “Skillfully played. I’d say that earns you a bit of a reward, wouldn’t you say?” he continued smoothly, turning up the charm. He stood up, hands flat on the table as he leaned over it, his piercing gaze fixated on Xaldin opposite him. 

Xaldin was bemused for once, which was a rare occurrence, and he felt that same sinking dread creep up on him. “And just what are you insinuating?” he asked warily, wishing that Luxord would take those penetrating blue eyes off of him and hoping that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. 

Unfortunately, it looked like that was exactly what Luxord was planning on doing. He slowly began to circle the table and answered, “Oh, nothing of consequence. Just a little something…  _ special _ .” The word dropped from his lips heavily, and he grinned roguishly, eyes gleaming with a certain malice. By this point, everyone, including Saix, had their eyes on him. He allowed himself a brief moment to revel in the attention.

“Luxord, you—”

The blond took that as his cue to silence him. He leaned over Xaldin and half-whispered into his ear, his voice just loud enough for the rest to hear, “You know you want it.” With that statement, he straddled Xaldin’s lap boldly.

The table erupted in reaction.  Someone wolf-whistled, while Xigbar’s loud voice carried over the rest of the clamor, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what th—” 

“ _ Luxord _ ,” Xaldin hissed. “What the  _ fuck _ do you think you’re doing?” He could feel the heat rising in his face as the tips of his pointed ears glowed red, and he could have sworn that he heard someone, most likely Larxene, dissolving into hysterical laughter. And Axel, fucking Axel, was snickering in the background of it all.

“Why, am I embarrassing you, love?” Luxord murmured, grinning like the cat that caught the mouse. 

And goddammit, the man was letting his hand wander, skimming over his knee and up his thigh— Xaldin balked and shoved his chair back to climb to his feet, trying to shake him off, but Luxord wrapped his arms around his neck and clung on. To the others, it must have been something of a comical sight, seeing Luxord hanging off the bigger man’s neck, but Xaldin wasn’t feeling amused in the slightest at the moment. 

“Have you no shame?” he said through gritted teeth. “And yes, I should say you are.”

“Aha!” Demyx burst out triumphantly, leaping to his feet and accidentally bumping the card table, sending cards flying everywhere. “Oops. I mean… Aha! Isn’t embarrassment an emotion? And you can’t try to explain it by saying that it’s all a memory of our past lives this time,” he chided as he pointed a warning finger at Xaldin. He frowned, thinking for a moment. “I mean, not unless you made it a regular habit to have blond guys sit on your lap in public…”

Xigbar had gotten over his initial shock and was dying of laughter. Xaldin fervently hoped that he would choke. 

His mission accomplished, Luxord let go and dusted himself off as if nothing had happened. _ Game, set, and match.  _

“I win!” Demyx declared, pumping his fist in the air. Xaldin grumbled and turned away, trying to rein himself in. 

Xigbar chuckled. “Man, I love you, kid.” He tugged Demyx down onto his lap, matching the other’s grin with one of his own.

Larxene rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by fags,” she commented in disgust and opened up a Dark Corridor. “I’m going to find Naminé.” She disappeared into the darkness, on the hunt for her favorite blonde.

“So,” Zexion said, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “I take it the game is over?” When no one deigned to answer him, he sighed and got up. “Presumably so. Shall we take our leave, Lexaeus?” 

“Oh, come on,” Axel complained. “If we’d gotten to play a few more rounds, I would’ve won back all that munny that you robbed me of last week, you know—” He followed Zexion and Lexaeus out of the room, still protesting. 

Xigbar and Demyx had their heads bent together, and Xaldin was sure he had overheard the words “strip poker” being mentioned. He decided that he didn’t want to know. 

They looked up at Xaldin and Luxord simultaneously. “Yeah, so we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone now,” Xigbar said with a smirk. “C’mon, Dem.” 

Once the pair of mischief makers had vanished, the room was blessedly silent, until Saix, whom everyone had forgotten about in his silence, made his presence known once more. He cleared his throat uncharacteristically before saying stiffly, “Number X, I will speak to you shortly about this… incident. As it is, consider your poker league permanently disbanded until further notice.” 

“Righty-o,” Luxord said amiably, and Saix swept out of the room without further comment, clearly scarred for life. 

With the spectators gone, Xaldin turned around and fixed Luxord with a death glare that would have caused even the most prolific of Marluxia’s flowers to wither instantaneously. He summoned his lances in silence and advanced on the traitor menacingly, the spears that surrounded him glinting dangerously. The normally eloquent man was having difficulty finding the appropriate words to express his extreme displeasure, but his weapons could more than make up for his lack of that. 

Luxord cleared his throat and flashed him what he hoped was a winning grin. “Hullo, love,” he began, his voice husky. “Pick a card, any card.” He held up his deck of cards as if they could save him from his impending doom.

Xaldin didn’t answer immediately, instead choosing to weigh his options: should he disembowel him on the spot or prolong his torture in order to entertain the other man’s idea here, whatever it may be? 

“Why?” he finally asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“No particular reason. Now, are you going to ask questions, or are you just going to do it?”

“The former.”

Luxord heaved a heavy sigh. “Why must you be so difficult?” he lamented. 

“Because you never do something unless you have a reason. I can’t trust you, as clearly evidenced by that  _ disgusting _ display of yours—”

Luxord waved away his words. “I’ll make it up to you. Now, draw a card.” He thrust the cards in Xaldin’s face again.

“No.”

“Xaldin.” Luxord dropped his hand, erasing the fan of cards with a single sweeping motion. “You are missing the point entirely. But I suppose you never were one to tempt fate. These cards—” the deck appeared in his outstretched hand once more, and he brandished them with a flourish to make his point “—there is a deeper significance belying their outer appearance. Each one is unique, tailored to its maker.” He fingered one of the cards lovingly, admiring its beauty. “If you really must know, I’m simply curious as to what card befits you. Now,” he said as he spread the cards out between his hands and offered them, “will you oblige me? Or are you afraid you won’t stand up to the odds?”

Xaldin grunted in annoyance but acquiesced, reaching for the cards exasperatedly. If truth be told, Luxord had piqued his curiosity. Of course, he didn’t really believe that the card he drew would have any significance whatsoever – it’s sheer coincidence, pure luck. “Fate” had nothing to do with it. But still, he couldn’t deny that it was an intriguing concept. He selected one card from the center of the spread and flipped it over deftly to look at it. The deuce of hearts.

Luxord withdrew his hands and grinned, obviously pleased with the selection. 

“What?” Xaldin asked defensively.

“Nothing, love.” The smug expression on his face said otherwise, and it rankled Xaldin.

“It is clearly not nothing,” he argued, violet eyes flashing in displeasure.

Luxord quickly decided that he was in enough hot water already and shouldn’t risk aggravating Xaldin any more than he already had. He suspected that if he said the wrong thing, he’d be eviscerated on the spot and, quite frankly, he couldn’t really afford that. “Allow me to pick one,” he hastily amended, handing over the same deck of cards he had used to test Xaldin and gesturing for him to fan them out so he could choose. He ran one slender finger over the spread-out cards, taking his sweet time before deciding on one on the far right. 

He revealed the card to Xaldin: the ace of hearts, just as he had predicted. “And there’s your answer,” he said smoothly. “Two hearts intertwine and become one. Our hearts are out there somewhere, torn from us when we succumbed to the darkness, right?” As he spoke, Luxord encircled an unimpressed Xaldin, who remained rooted to the spot, his arms folded and gaze accusing. “Who knows, maybe the keyblade bearer has even freed them already. Maybe your heart and mine are together as we speak, woven together, one within Kingdom Hearts.” His eyes wandered over to the lofty window that overlooked the giant glowing moon of Kingdom Hearts. He wrapped his arms around Xaldin from behind, pressing up against his back. Luxord rested his chin on Xaldin’s shoulder and, his breath hot against the crook of Xaldin’s neck, finished: “And when Kingdom Hearts is complete, and we can unite with it…” He trailed off, words suggesting the kind of paradise attainable only by those who had hearts.

Xaldin was trying his hardest to ignore the warm body pressed close to him, those arms wrapped loosely around his waist, and shifted his weight. Determined not to be swayed, he merely answered, “I know what you’re trying to do, and you’re not forgiven.”

Luxord laughed and pressed his lips against Xaldin’s neck. “Well, it was worth a shot,” he said lightly and released Xaldin. “And you ought to lighten up, mate. They were bound to find out soon anyway – Axel already told Demyx, and between the two of them, the entire castle would have heard about it by tomorrow morning.”

Xaldin turned to leave. “Nevertheless,” he said coldly, glaring at Luxord over his shoulder. “You can forget about  _ ‘getting any’  _ anytime soon.” He would have carried out his threat of bodily harm, but Luxord had mollified him somewhat, although he wouldn’t admit it. That didn’t change the fact that his antics were unforgiveable, however, but revenge would have to come later. Now, all he could do was leave the room with as much dignity as he had salvaged, his coat swishing regally about his ankles. 

A smile tugged at the corners of Luxord’s lips as he watched Xaldin depart. No matter. He was confident Xaldin would come around soon enough. He pocketed the deck of cards, straightened out his coat, and exited the room as well. Now, if he could just find Saix and have a few words about this teensy matter of banning his poker league for good…


	3. Chapter 3

Xaldin was biding his time. Someday, someplace, when Luxord had let his guard down, he was coming after him, to make him pay. His opportunity finally struck a week later. (A week of being relentlessly teased by Axel, Demyx, Xigbar, and Larxene whenever the chance arose. Even Marluxia, who hadn't even been  _ present _ for the incident, joined the fun by asking him how it was "doing time." He was not amused.)

The morning began like any other day at The Castle That Never Was, with Xaldin reporting in the Grey Room to receive the day’s work from Saix, who handed him his mission wordlessly before moving on to the next member. Xaldin briefly skimmed the summary of the mission he had been assigned to:  _ Shadow globs have overrun Twilight Town. They have been deemed harmless at present; however, allowing them to propagate further could have dire and unpredictable consequences. Take Demyx with you and destroy them on sight. _

"Tch." He turned over the paper to see if there were any further objectives, only to find none. A menial task, hardly befitting of the Organization's Number III, and certainly not one worth sending two members to accomplish. But seeing as how Demyx was his charge for the day, he suspected that Saix's reasoning was that Xaldin would ensure that the slacker would actually do his work for once instead of shirking it entirely. Speaking of whom, Number IX had yet to show up. He took a seat on the couch, deducing that it would be a while before Demyx arrived. 

Xaldin cocked his head slightly, sensing the near-imperceptible sound of a portal opening behind him. He glanced briefly over his shoulder to check who the visitor was, but he needn’t have bothered; an all too familiar voice alerted him to the fact that it was the one Organization member he most certainly did  _ not _ want to see at the moment. 

“That,” Luxord proclaimed, handing his mission report to Saix, “is the last time I spend the night in another world, stakeout or no stakeout. Lady Luck did not favor me this hand.”

He could feel Luxord's eyes on the back of his head as he gave Saix a brief review of the mission, but Xaldin refused outright to meet his gaze, instead choosing to concentrate on a particularly fascinating spot on the wall opposite him. 

Finally, Luxord gave up on trying to make eye contact and bade Saix farewell but was halted once more before he could escape. 

“And where do you think you are going? Surely you haven’t forgotten about today’s mission, Number X?” 

There was a momentary pause. “Hardly,” Luxord replied coolly. “But seeing as how I’ve only just returned from yesterday’s assignment, I believe that I am entitled to the small privilege of a brief reprieve.” Before Saix could detain him further, he swiftly swept past Xaldin to retire to his room. 

Xaldin could practically feel the displeasure radiating from Saix’s every pore. “It’s about time you showed up,” the Berserker barked, directing his ire towards an unsuspecting Demyx, who had just wandered through the door. 

“What?” Demyx asked, utterly befuddled. He wasn’t any later than he normally was on any given day. “I was just, uh, getting ready for the day. Gotta be prepared and everything!”

“Well, finish your preparations and be on your way,” Saix snapped in vexation, fed up with Demyx’s excuses. “You’re with Xaldin today.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Demyx mumbled, slouching over to Xaldin. “So, what’s the mission today, big guy?” he asked, snatching the mission report from Xaldin and scanning it. “Oh, shadow globs. Well, at least it’s something, you know, nonviolent. They put me on Heartless duty again yesterday. It’s like I keep telling them, I am so not cut out for combat. Not that I’d rather be working at all, but—”

“Demyx,” Xaldin finally interrupted, pinching his forehead in exasperation. There was something about Number IX that always gave him a headache. “Would you be quiet for two minutes so that I can speak?” Demyx quickly shut up. He valued his carefree, lazy life far too much to risk losing it by pissing off the one Organization member who could wield six weapons at once. After making sure that he was paying close attention, Xaldin continued, “You are to complete this mission on your own.”

“What?” Demyx yelped. “Whoa, whoa, you can’t desert me like—”

“It is frivolous to waste two members on a single mission that can easily be accomplished by one. Perhaps if you applied yourself for once instead of shirking your duties, you could complete such a simple task on your own. But if you believe that to be beyond your capabilities, then I’m sure we can arrange for a Dusk to accompany you.” 

Demyx looked thoroughly put out. “So why aren’t you coming? It’s your mission too,” he accused.

“Because, unlike you amateurs, I have more important things to do,” he answered contemptuously.  _ Like Luxord _ , the little voice that resided in his head supplied, and he cringed internally, berating himself for the thought. Still, he had no qualms about abandoning Demyx; after all, when he buckled down instead of goofing off, he was quite a capable fighter.

“Yeah, well – well, when I get my rewards from this mission, you’re gonna have wished you came along!” Demyx shouted lamely at Xaldin’s retreating back, but the Lancer wasn’t falling for any of his tricks. Instead, he chose to ignore him and left the room wordlessly; it wasn’t worth wasting his breath on. 

Alone, Demyx heaved a dramatic sigh and addressed his sitar. “Well, Arpeggio, are you ready to blow this thing off?” He strummed the sitar, the chord echoing around the empty room in response. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too.” He summoned up a portal and slipped off to Twilight Town, anticipating an easy day of relaxation. 

  
\------------------------

Meanwhile, Luxord made his getaway, fully aware that he had most likely incurred Saix’s wrath and was sure to pay for his insolence later. But even if he had embarked on today’s mission, he would have inevitably slipped up on the job and subsequently been told off either way. It was a lose-lose situation. Luxord shut the door behind him and tossed his coat over the back of his chair, pausing to look at himself in the mirror. 

“You are going downhill, mate,” he said to his reflection, taking in his haggard, weary appearance. He sighed and rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He hadn’t slept properly in days – which wasn’t unrelated to recent events. He turned to his dresser to rummage around in the drawers for a pair of pajamas; if he was going to skive off work, he might as well get some rest out of it. Xaldin, however, had other plans for him.

Unbeknownst to the Gambler, Xaldin materialized silently behind him and stood there, his hands clasped reservedly behind his back. Luxord finally seized a pair of sleep pants and looked at them for a moment, unable to keep his mind from wandering back to the same persistent thoughts that kept him awake at night. “I wish Xaldin would have just looked at me,” he muttered aloud, thinking back to the terse moment in the lounge. 

“Right behind you,” Xaldin spoke up darkly, ominously looming over him. Caught unawares, Luxord dropped the pajamas he had been holding and spun around, starting when he found himself not six inches away from the very man he had been speaking of. Xaldin scarcely gave him time to take a breath, already hauling him off his feet and forcefully shoving him onto the bed. The headboard banged against the wall as Luxord slammed against it, and before he could react, Xaldin was on top of him, wrenching his arms over his head and pinning them above him. The Lancer swiftly used his powers to his advantage, harnessing the wind under his control into unbreakable bonds of rope and using them to tie Luxord’s wrists to the headboard. 

It all happened in the bat of an eye. Still shell-shocked, Luxord blinked twice, attempting to make sense of what exactly had just occurred. A grin of pure joy broke out on his face when his head cleared and he realized who his assaulter was. Suddenly, he wasn’t quite so tired anymore. “Well, well,” he said, unable to mask the relief he felt at the sight of Xaldin before him. “Fancy seeing you here. I suppose this is in response to last week’s, ah, mishap?” he asked unnecessarily, referring to his present position.

“Correct. You’re a clever man, aren’t you?”

“That I am,” Luxord answered, still dazed and clearly missing the rhetorical aspect of the question. 

“So clever, in fact,” Xaldin continued silkily, “that I’m sure you can manage to escape this sticky situation without a problem.”

This time, the sarcasm did not elude him. He tested the bonds experimentally, only to find that he could barely move his arms an inch away from the headboard. “Ah. Intriguing.” He craned his neck upwards to examine the curious shackles. Luxord thought quickly, Xaldin’s words turning in his mind. He didn’t see a feasible way out of it – even if he halted time, which he was not in any present condition to do, he would still be stuck in this compromising position, and not even he could manage to free himself without the use of his hands. Besides, even if he did manage to slip away, Xaldin would  _ not _ be happy. And this – he wanted this, didn’t he?

As if reading his mind, Xaldin leaned in and touched his face with one hand, lips ghosting cruelly against the shadows of his neck. Luxord closed his eyes, letting out a sigh at the longed-for touch of skin against skin. One week of trying and failing to catch his gaze in the lounge, one week of no contact, one week of jerking off alone in the darkness of his bedroom, pretending it was Xaldin he was clutching to instead of the pillow, a feeble substitute. One week too long.

“You know you want it,” Xaldin whispered, the words mocking. Luxord flinched, recognizing the very words he had used against the Lancer echoed back at him. 

And he did. Oh  _ gods _ , he did. “Perhaps I do,” he answered, attempting to disarm the other with one of those charming trademark smiles of his, but Xaldin wasn’t having any of it.

“It’s not going to work this time.”

“Very well then,” Luxord conceded amiably. “You may have your way with me, I suppose. Now that you have your hand, how do you intend to play it?” 

Xaldin was a man of action, not frivolous, insignificant chatter. “Like this.” With that brief statement, he leaned in and began to kiss Luxord’s neck, one hand placed possessively on his hip.

Luxord felt a small thrill surge through him. There was something exhilarating and dangerous about being tied up, helpless, completely out of control. He was entirely at Xaldin’s mercy, and for someone who usually enjoyed being in charge, it was a truly sensual experience. He tipped his head back, basking in the intoxicating sensation of Xaldin’s mouth moving down his neck, biting and sucking ruthlessly. 

It suddenly dawned on Luxord that Xaldin was purposely choosing visible spots where he’d be unable to hide the increasingly noticeable trail of love-bites blossoming on his skin. Oh, the others were going to have a field day with this. It was irony at its finest. Still, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, he supposed. He closed his eyes and let out a small moan as Xaldin’s fingers grazed against his back, one hand deftly working at the buttons of his shirt. 

Xaldin moved to rid himself of Luxord’s shirt by pushing it off of his shoulders, but the same thought occurred to both men at that very moment: with Luxord’s hands tied above his head, there was no way to remove the shirt. Xaldin, however, had no intention of letting this minor issue get in the way of his goal. Without missing a beat, he summoned a single lance and directed it to slash the shirt down the seams, enabling him to remove the obstructive clothing and toss it to the floor. 

Luxord’s mouth dropped open and he protested weakly, “That shirt was brand new—” He stopped abruptly when he caught the murderous glint in Xaldin’s eyes. He decided to swiftly change tactics and try to reason with him. “Don’t you think this is slightly unreasonable?” he argued. “The tied hands and all, I mean.” Xaldin gave him a callous look, not about to back down. Luxord sighed. “Apparently not.”

“Shut up,” Xaldin growled, preoccupied with unzipping Luxord’s fly.

“I’d really rather not.”

Xaldin abandoned the task to grip Luxord by the chin and lock eyes with him, his piercing violet gaze meeting the other’s mischievous blue one. “Let me make something quite clear here,” he said slowly, with every intention of ensuring that Luxord hung onto every word. “You are not to speak unless I give you permission to. And I’ll remind you to think about just who is the one tied up and half-naked, and who is the one with an assortment of particularly sharp weapons that could do so much more damage to your vulnerable body.” He tightened his grip to drive his point home.

Luxord swallowed. “Fair point. Carry on.” He didn’t doubt that Xaldin would do it too. And while part of him was oddly… well,  _ aroused _ , by the suggestion, the other, more logical part of him preferred his body relatively unmarred. And in any case, he knew – and expected – that Xaldin could torture him without even needing to resort to his weapons.

“Good.” Xaldin released him and continued removing his pants. Luxord was still marveling over his good fortune. Avoiding work was entirely worth any backlash he might receive later if it meant finally making up with Xaldin. He realized that this could be either the best night or the worst night of his entire nonexistence, depending on how he chose to play his cards. The stakes were high, but he had always loved the thrill of a challenge running through his veins. 

Xaldin abandoned Luxord to remove his own Organization coat and tug his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor to join the rest of the discarded clothing, but he left his pants on. Luxord suspected that he did it on purpose just to taunt him, to tempt him with what he couldn’t have. The bastard. He vowed right then and there to maintain his composure and refuse to let it agitate him. But then Xaldin was on top of him again, his hands wandering, touching all the places that had gone untouched by other hands for the past week, and he knew that this, like so many other promises he’d made in the past, was a promise he would be unable to keep.

Xaldin made it his mission to reacquaint himself with every inch of Luxord’s body, eyes sweeping over him and his hand trailing behind. The cold, heartless barrier he put up wasn’t quite enough to mask the lust in his eyes, and Luxord couldn’t help but smile at the intensity of his gaze, desire mingled with the hatred of revenge. He stretched out his body, giving in to the light caress as Xaldin traced the curve of his hip. His touch was remarkably soft despite the rough calluses on his hands, the battle scars left behind as a memento of a lifetime of training with his weapons. One hand trailed down over Luxord’s stomach, stopping just short of his groin, where it lingered invitingly, fingers brushing against the soft blond hair of his happy trail.  _ Too soon _ , he seemed to say, and thought better of it. Instead, he encircled his arms around Luxord and pressed a kiss to his collarbone, working his way south.

Xaldin lazily traced his way down Luxord’s chest with his tongue, his hands exploring the crevices of his back. The Gambler had to shiver slightly. It was torture. Lovely, blissful torture, but torture nonetheless. He shifted uncomfortably, lifting his hips upward to press against Xaldin, but his efforts were in vain; the Lancer pulled back just out of reach, a mocking smirk visible on his features.

Luxord scowled in frustration, tugging against his restraints. He was turned on and all too aware of Xaldin’s hand, which was now hovering just above his skin, the lingering body heat a temptation in itself. His fingers lightly skimmed over his knee and up his leg, making him tingle with anticipation, before finally settling down on the inside of his thigh. He traced slow, teasing circles with his thumb, casually drifting closer and closer towards his crotch. 

Luxord twitched. For the love of Kingdom Hearts, he was already rock-hard and Xaldin hadn’t even  _ touched _ him there yet. He had to bite his tongue to keep from making a snarky remark about Xaldin’s relentless torment. The rules of this game were more challenging than he had anticipated. But a good player always adjusted his game to suit the house rules, and he, if he did say so himself, was an excellent gambler in that respect.

His meandering thoughts were swiftly and abruptly interrupted when Xaldin’s hand finally enveloped him, his thumb stroking the underside of his shaft, running languidly over the six barbells that lined it. His fingers teased at the piercing at the tip of his cock, and Luxord jerked involuntarily. All rational thought was forgotten, replaced by a running monologue of  _ ohgodsyesdon’tstoppleasepleaseplease _ , and he knew then that he was a goner. Xaldin had him screwed, and he meant that both figuratively and literally. Luxord was putty in his hands, and he would have resented it if it didn’t feel so goddamn  _ good _ . He let his eyes close, his mouth parting slightly, and reveled in the touch of Xaldin’s fingers expertly working their way up and down his length and his mouth toying with his nipple. 

Xaldin soon dropped both pursuits and took his torture up a notch by roughly pulling Luxord onto his lap, one arm tightly enfolded around him to keep him pressed close against his body. Luxord wrapped his legs around Xaldin’s waist and bent his head, wincing slightly in pain. It was excruciating, the way his body was contorted, his hips pulled forward and arms twisted back, but Xaldin’s searching fingers had found the sweet spot between his balls and his entrance and, and – oh  _ gods _ , he didn’t know it was possible to feel that good. He bit Xaldin’s shoulder to stifle his groans and wished for the millionth time that he had use of his hands, because oh, the things he would be doing with them right now…

Xaldin suddenly stopped and pushed Luxord off his lap and against the headboard once more. “Can’t have you getting too far ahead of yourself, now can we?” he commented, and the malicious gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. He pulled away from Luxord so that he could attend to his own needs, which were clearly more important than those of his victim.

Luxord squirmed, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Xaldin unzipping his pants and taking care of his own arousal. He kept trying to move his hands out of instinct to touch Xaldin, himself, anything to rid himself of the painful throbbing below the belt line, and he kept finding himself unable to do so. His wrists were crossed and bound to the headboard, and no amount of tugging would get them to budge. Out of sheer frustration and the need for contact, he thrust his hips forward to no avail. Xaldin merely laughed cruelly at his plight and sat back. 

“Do you really think I’m going to let you off that easily?” he asked, amusement lining his voice.

“Can’t blame a man for trying,” Luxord breathed. “Now can we please get on with it? I’d prefer not to have to beg for it if at all possible.”

Xaldin simply arched a brow. "Didn't I tell you that you weren't allowed to speak without permission?"

"Oh dear, it must have slipped my mind. I suppose that you'll just have to punish me now, won't you?" Luxord grinned cheekily.

“I suppose I must,” Xaldin lamented. “How… unfortunate. However, I have just the thing.” He reached for his discarded coat and withdrew a leather studded cock ring from his pocket, dangling it in front of Luxord with a sly smile on his face. 

Luxord swore when he saw what Xaldin was holding. "Oh, you have  _ got _ to be fucking with me—"

Xaldin's mouth twisted into a vindictive smirk. He had anticipated such a reaction. "The answer to that is both yes and no."

"I am  _ not _ wearing that thing," Luxord hissed defiantly, lashing out as though he could prevent the inevitable.

"Yes you are," Xaldin grunted, attempting to keep Luxord from kicking him in the most uncomfortable of places. "Now stop your childish thrashing, unless you want your legs restrained as well." He growled, a low rumble of displeasure, and forcibly held Luxord down by the hips.

Luxord quickly settled down, but he was still fuming. While he may have gotten off on having his hands tied down (or up, as the case might be), he didn't think he could handle having no movement whatsoever. Even so, he was decidedly not happy with the other option, but it was one or the other. Quite frankly, he'd rather have neither, but then again, he'd rather be fucking Xaldin's brains out at this very moment, but that wasn't exactly in the cards for him either, now was it? 

"Fine," he sulked. He knew that he probably sounded like a petulant child, but at this point, he didn't even care anymore. Xaldin's little game was driving him out of his mind, and it wasn't  _ fair _ – of the two of them,  _ he _ was supposed to be the game master.

Amused, Xaldin couldn't help but comment, "Someone's certainly worked up."

Luxord scowled at him. "I'm sexually frustrated, you bloody bastard. How else do you expect me to react when you decide to—"

Xaldin shut him up with a kiss, cutting him off mid-tirade. "It'll be worth it," he promised, but the smirk on his face told Luxord that he would have to hold on just a little bit longer.

The Gambler made a noise of dissent and clenched his eyes shut, reciting the entire deck of Major Arcana in numerical order to distract himself from the fact that Xaldin was snapping the leather cock ring around the base of his shaft.

"First things first," Xaldin said brusquely. "You're not to come before I tell you to."

Luxord let out a strangled noise of disbelief. 

"My needs come before yours," he continued.

"You're a selfish prick," he spat.

"Really. How fitting. I'd think that to be an apt description of yourself and your own actions."

He couldn't deny that it was true. He  _ had _ been something of a selfish prick himself, and now it was coming back to bite him in the arse. As the saying went, karma was a bitch. 

"Now, what are you going to do?" Xaldin prompted.

Luxord swallowed his pride and recited back to him, slurring his words together so that they were near indistinguishable, "I am not going to come before you do. Now shut up and fuck me already, would you?"

Xaldin’s smirk grew, and he reached for the bottle of lube on Luxord’s nightstand. “With pleasure.” He poured a generous amount of lube in his palm and stroked his shaft leisurely, fully aware of how impatient he was making the other man. 

“Xaldin…” Luxord had to struggle to keep his voice even. “I swear, if you don’t hurry up, I’ll…”

“You’ll  _ what _ , precisely? Might I remind you, you are in no position to be making threats.” His eyes flicked up to his bound hands and down to the cock ring, which was clearly doing its job. “Don’t tempt me,” he snarled and drove himself into Luxord, both a punishment and a reward. 

Luxord grit his teeth at the force but, at the same time, let out a satisfied hum of mingled pleasure and pain; he’d finally gotten what he wanted. He could feel the insatiable heat welling up inside of him and arched up into the contact. Xaldin roughly pulled his pelvis closer to his own, and one hand snaked between them to grip Luxord, rhythmically jerking in time with his thrusting. A moan escaped the Gambler’s lips, and he bent his knees to deepen the penetration. Xaldin took the opportunity to push his knees back further, angling himself so that he could hit Luxord’s prostrate full on. 

“Fuck, Xal—” Luxord cursed, his breath hitching mid-sentence. “Sorry,” he gasped in apology. “I’m sorry, already!”

“I’m afraid ‘sorry’ isn’t good enough at this point. I’ve got you just where I want you, and you’re staying here until I get what I want,” Xaldin answered, hell-bent on ensuring that Luxord atoned for his actions.

“What else could you possibly —nngh—” He arched up, back curving like a comma, as Xaldin thrust deeper into him, his hand twisting just so.

Luxord thumped back against the headboard and thought for a brief, fleeting second that it was nice that the rooms were far enough apart that there were no neighbors to hear the sound of pure, raw sex through the walls. For some reason, he didn’t think that Marluxia or Demyx, on either side of him, needed to know just what was going on in here. And what was going on in here was quite possibly the best, not to mention the most agonizing, sex he’d had in… well,  _ ever _ .

Xaldin leaned in to kiss the other man harshly, lips moving insistently. It was a desperate, almost violent kiss, both grappling to get closer despite already being plastered to each other, skin fused against skin. Luxord moaned unabashedly into his mouth, physically unable to take it anymore. It was sensory overload.

Xaldin broke away, seeming to recognize how close to the edge the blond was getting, and slowed down drastically. He gripped the headboard for support and leaned over the other man, unhurriedly rolling his hips forward. “I must say, I am somewhat surprised at your overall complacency,” Xaldin murmured into Luxord’s ear. 

Luxord struggled to regain control of his breathing, panting slightly. A single bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “What can I say? Sometimes you’re the player, sometimes you’re the played. And in this instance, I know my place.”

“Wise words,” was all Xaldin had to say in response. “Perhaps you have learned something from this whole debacle after all.”

“Perhaps I have.” Luxord grinned up at him, his eyes clouded with need. Xaldin was clearly affected by the heated affair as well, and he knew that he wouldn’t have to hold on for much longer. He let his eyes drift shut, trying to pull himself together. With his eyes closed, he had only touch and sound, but those alone were nearly enough to drive him to the brink of insanity.

Xaldin gripped his hips tightly enough to leave bruises and bent his head to touch the other’s blond crown, his breath growing shallower and more ragged. He quickened his pace, hips jerking recklessly. Luxord grinded his own hips up against him provocatively with the intent of finishing him off, and Xaldin lost it entirely, slamming himself into Luxord one last time. The Brit had to bite his lip to keep from coming himself and tasted the metallic tang of blood. Xaldin slowly eased in and out of him, the post-orgasmic aftereffects still coursing through him. 

Luxord squirmed as Xaldin took his sweet time recovering. He couldn’t handle this. He could  _ not _ handle this. He was thisfuckingclose to reaching his peak, and it was threatening to overwhelm him. He kept his eyes glued on Xaldin, certain that now that he’d gotten his pleasure, he’d allow him to come too. But the Lancer evidently thought otherwise and pulled away, dusting his hands off and making as though he was about to leave.

Luxord all but whimpered. He’d given up on dignity a long time ago; all that was left were the primal instincts of lust and his fingers clenching and unclenching restlessly, toes digging into the sheets out of sheer need. “You’re… You’re not seriously going to leave me…?” His voice crackled slightly on the last syllable.

Xaldin brushed his fingers against the base of Luxord’s shaft, where the cock ring remained. “Well, it all depends. Have you learned your lesson?”

Luxord hissed out a jumbled, incoherent reply of mixed frustration and ecstasy, nodding his head furiously. Satisfied, Xaldin reached down to unsnap the studded leather ring and tip him over the edge with a final squeeze, giving him the release that he so desperately needed.

Relief flooded him. Blessed, blissful relief. He moaned, a low keening sound that emanated from the back of his throat, rocking back and forth as the climax hit him with full force. At some point, he wasn’t sure when, his mind was swimming, everything a blur – at some point, Xaldin had taken hold of him, clutching him in his grip as Luxord went to pieces, his body wracked with intense spasms.

Still breathing heavily, Luxord collapsed against the headboard, his body going slack in Xaldin’s arms. Xaldin let go of him, breathing just as hard as he was, and the two remained where they were for several moments of silence, broken only by the faint sounds of the aftermath of sex. 

After a while, Xaldin remembered that Luxord was still tied up and released his prisoner from his restraints. Luxord rubbed his chafed wrists, wincing as he tried to regain sensation in them. Once the numbness was relieved, he slid closer to Xaldin and wrapped his arms around him. “Feel better?”

“Mmm.” He had to admit, lying there, being held by Luxord after expelling all of his pent-up anger felt strangely pleasant.

There was another silence, but it was a comfortable silence, one where neither of them felt obligated to speak for the sake of speaking. Lying there in the tangle of sheets, limbs entwined, was enough for them. Luxord ran one hand aimlessly over Xaldin’s body, refamiliarizing himself with it and marveling over how nice it felt to be able to touch him like this again. Xaldin watched the path of his hand, lips quirked in mild amusement before speaking again. 

“I take it the mission didn’t go too well, then?”

Luxord snorted. “That would be a gross understatement. When a pack of bloody Rabid Dogs decided to descend upon me the moment I stepped foot into the world, I knew it would be a nightmare. Needless to say, I’m exhausted. And you certainly didn’t help matters either.” He nudged Xaldin, but the other man took no notice.

“Nevertheless, I suppose we should get back to work,” Xaldin mulled. “Demyx probably hasn’t eradicated a single shadow glob yet, the fool.”

“We should,” Luxord agreed. “But I do not intend on doing so until after I get my well-deserved rest. Now give me your shirt,” he demanded. “I do believe you owe me at least that much, seeing as how you  _ tore mine to shreds _ .”

Xaldin couldn’t be bothered leaning off of the bed to scoop up his shirt from the floor, because that would require moving, and he was quite comfortable where he was. Instead, he let the wind do the dirty work for him and conjured up a gust of air that lifted the shirt off the floor and sent it flying in Luxord’s face. Luxord was too worn out to even make an indignant retort and simply slipped into the shirt before curling up next to Xaldin, spooning him from behind. 

Xaldin rolled his eyes; Luxord didn’t even give him the option of going back to work like a responsible adult. “Saix will have your head on a silver platter if you don’t complete your mission today, you know,” he lectured. “You best hope that he doesn’t come prowling around here in search of you, because I will not hesitate to kick you out and leave you at his mercy.” There was no response, only the steady rise and fall of Luxord’s breathing. 

He glanced behind him to find the Gambler sound asleep with his head tucked in the crook of Xaldin’s neck, the exhaustion finally overwhelming him. He smiled and reached up to trace the trail of bruises that lined his neck. As aggravating as Luxord could be at times, it  _ was _ nice to not have to deal with the strain of arguing and the tension and bitterness that it caused. And lying there, with Luxord’s arms around him, he was left thinking that maybe this could work out after all.


End file.
